


Just One More Hit and Then We're Through

by blueoleandar93



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2014!Cas, 2014!Dean, 2014!verse, Cas is a complete mess, Consent Issues, Dean is a total jerk, Dean likes that Cas is a mess and kind of enables it, Drug Use, F/M, Foursome - F/F/M/M, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism, dubcon, mean!dean, noncon, sex under the influence, subby!cas, their whole relationship throughout is just not healthy in any way shape or form, theres a lot of sex in here guys like a LOT, this is just how i pictured their slippery slope into 2014!verse to go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-19 04:47:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3596898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueoleandar93/pseuds/blueoleandar93
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Sam and Dean split, the Apocalypse begins, Cas starts doing drugs, and Dean becomes even more of a jerk than he was before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just One More Hit and Then We're Through

**Author's Note:**

> Title of the fic taken from Panic! at the Disco's song "Nicotine". 
> 
> Un-Beta'd

Just One More Hit and Then We're Through

 

February 12th 2012

 

Sam took off days ago and Dean hasn’t been the same since.

Dean  _knows_  this too.

He just refuses to acknowledge it.

There’s a sadness to the man that just wasn’t there before. And now, he’s stuck in this partially frozen, closed off rift where he’s simply unable to feel anything but pain and anger. While it’s arguable that Dean has been like this forever, he has let people through his "wall" in the past. Sam, Bobby, Jo... even Cas.  But, now, that wall is slammed up tighter than Fort Knox and there’s no getting it down. The doors of the Department Store of Dean’s Vulnerability are closed due to flooding. What hasn’t been soiled after Sam’s departure has been retailed during liquidation at bars and strip joints. Every bit of him was sold off to the highest bidder! Revenge! Fear! Anxiety! Depression! One day only! Everything must go!

Now, all that’s left is the mission: kill that asshole Satan son of a bitch once and for all. Well... the mission and  _Cas_. The poor angelic bastard got kicked out of Heaven for following Dean’s lead and now, he’s hanging around Dean like bad weed smoke on an old threadbare sweater.  Dean gets it--really, he does. Castiel doesn’t know what to do. He has given up on the search for God, his family has shunned him, he has a price on his head for fratricide upon many other crimes against angelhood, I mean, jeez. This guy can’t seem to catch a break. The only place he knows he’s safe is beside Dean.

Wow. Fuck. Isn’t that a laugh? The man whom single handedly kills each and every person he’s befriended by association alone is the only person a fallen angel feels safe near. Dean can’t possibly imagine why the nerdy little dude doesn’t run for the hills. Well, alright, he does know why. The whole “shunned from Heaven” thing keeps him at a short list of safe houses, but whatever. Dean’s allowed to feel like shit, okay? He just is.

Sammy’s gone.

He’s just plain not around anymore.

And he never will be again.

He’s not going to laugh loudly beside Dean at the gas station, he’s not going to stink up the car with his gross farts, he’s not going to bitch Dean out for saying something uncouth, he’s not going to clap him on the shoulder too hard after a case is closed, he’s not going to look at him with those child-like eyes that haven’t aged a day over six months, he’s not going to need Dean anymore, he’s never going to need Dean anymore. Never ever. Never. No more Sammy.

Fuck, man, don’t cry. Don’t you dare fucking cry in this dirty ass motel bathroom like some prissy little girl. Don’t you do it.

You’ve got a devil to kill. When you splatter his satanic brains across the floor, you two can be together again. No sooner.

Dean stared back at himself in the dusty mirror. Usually that anecdote at the end works for him just fine. It’s just... not working today. His heart is heavy with sadness and regret and there’s this pressure in the back of his mind--right behind his eyes--like he needs to wring his tear ducts dry and get it over with already. But, he can’t do that. Son of a bitch is too prideful to cry.

There was a heavy knock on the door behind him and he heard the unmistakable sound of wood splintering at the shock. Dean jumped and turned around, pulling the gun out of his boot and pointing it at the door in proper Rambo stance, “What do you want?”

The familiar deep, rumbling timbre of a voice rasped from the other end of the door, “Hello, Dean.”

Dean dropped the hand with the gun in it to his side, clicking the safety on before pressing his fingers to his temples to relieve some of the pressure from the scare, “Come on, man! Could you at least call before showing up? What kind of girl do you think I am?”

Cas croaked out from the motel bedroom, voice muffled by the sound of the door, “I don’t think you’re a girl, Dean. You’re a thirty-one year old man.”

“It was a figure of speec--“ Dean stopped himself, giving up before even trying to reason with the angel about word choice, “You know what? Forget it.” He placed the gun on top of the sink and walked over to the bathroom door, almost smacking his newfound angel friend in the face with the force he opened it with.

Dean looked the angel over and the angel looked back all squinty blue eyes, ill-fitting suit, and rumpled raven hair with five o’clock shadow that is running way too close to 8:00 pm. Yeah, he’s still Cas. And from what he can see, dude’s still got a mile long stick up his ass that ain’t ever coming out. Dean leaned against the door frame and inquired as he shoved his hands in his pockets casually, “So, what's the word, Cas? Monsters? Demons? Rouge angels? Snooki's next book on the market?"

Cas cocked his head to the side instead of asking what Dean was talking about. Luckily, he does this often enough that Dean was able to interpret it as he rolling his eyes at Cas's inability to understand his minimal use of slang, "You don't ever just show up for no reason, Cas, and since the Apocalypse is nigh as fuck, chances are you probably have details on some monster wreaking havoc that needs ganking. And, thus, I reiterate.  _To what manslaughtering supernatural piece of shit do I owe the pleasure_?”

"Me." Cas shrugged, losing his thick eye contact with Dean to stare at the floor before mumbling out, “Your 'chances' are wrong. I didn't come to spread news of demon activity, I just wanted to say ‘hello’.”

Dean scoffed, “Bullshit. We're friendly, but we're not  _that_  close. Wanna run it by me again?”

Cas sighed and dragged his eyes back up to Dean, saying heavily, “I ... I tried to transport myself out of the country to see how far I could fly and my distance has been greatly diminished. I can only manage to fly 1.7933333333334333--“

Dean rolled his eyes, “Cas, get to the point before I start sprouting greys.”

Cas continued, “3333333 million square miles from where I am now. And that radius is decreasing drastically by the hour. Within a few weeks, I will not be able to fly at all. Is there anything you wish to acquire from Mexico or Puerto Rico while I have the ability to obtain it for you?”

Dean raised his hand to rub it across the bottom of his face before laughing, “You came all the way over here, broke the bathroom door, told me that your pissed off brothers are clipping your wings one feather at a time, and the only thing that you’re worried about is that I’ll suddenly need something from an annexed island?”

Cas corrected, “And Mexico.”

Dean smiled fondly back at his friend before confessing lightheartedly, “You’re really fucking weird and I like that about you.”

Cas’s mouth twitched in the closest thing to a smile Dean has ever seen, “I like you too, Dean.”

Dean cocked his head towards his thick green jacket and stated simply, “I was just about to go drown my feelings in booze and strippers, and since you don't seem to have anything better to do... wanna come with?”

Castiel paused for a moment before squinting at Dean and nodding slowly, “To yet another den of iniquity?”

“Yeah. You game?” Dean replied with a smirk.

Cas straightened his shoulders and answered with a serious, “Very well, then. I am ‘game’.”

 

February 13th 2011

 

It’s a bitch and a half to get a fallen angel drunk, but it is possible. By the time the two men made it to their third bar of the night, Dean was howling drunk and Castiel was “feeling something”. By their fifth bar, Dean had the pleasure of watching his friend sway in his seat with half lidded eyes and tell a waitress that her little sister misses her terribly in her Heaven where they are playing an eternal version of the snowball fight that they had winter of ‘94. Needless to say, they got kicked out of the bar.

Through some strange, celestial miracle, there was a gentleman’s club across the street. Dean and Castiel staggered their way along the sidewalk to it laughing and weaving and holding on to each other for stability. It was freezing out, sleet falling from the sky and shit, and Dean had definitely left his jacket inside the fourth bar. Cars zoomed by on the street, kicking up some unwanted cool air and wetness and as Dean shivered, Cas shrugged off his trench coat and draped it over Dean’s shoulders. It was warm and smelled like the dark lager he spilled on it at bar two.

After giving Dean his coat, Cas left his hands at the rise of Dean's biceps and patted him gently on the arm before saying simply, "If I ever in my life feel as cold as you do right now, smite me where I stand." The hunter laughed through his teeth chatter and tugged his friend along through the parking lot. As they walked in shivering silence, Dean kept casting drunken looks over to his angel buddy and smiling in comfort. For once, he isn't the strongest guy in the area. Cas has his back 1000% and Dean has Cas's too. It's kind of like how he feels when he's going out with Sam, except instead of praying that Sam's speed and agility would be enough, he  _knows_  that Cas is powerful enough to BAMF his way through an army of demons. Dean's chill. He can relax. And that feels awesome.

Flashing their fake IDs at the door, Dean led the way into the club with Castiel close on his heels. The intoxicated angel was shifting on his feet at the sight of the bustling, dimly lit, feather layered, fuzzy pink couch covered, pole littered club room and as scantily clad women and men walked by them in lingerie and sparkly cat ear headbands, he was outwardly confused. Cas followed Dean to an empty couch near the back and tapped him as they sat, “Dean. Dean. Dean. Dean. Dea--“

Dean glared at him, slapping the angelic hand away from his shoulder, “What?”

Cas tilted his head to the side, swaying once more in his seat as he pouted his lips and squinted sloppily with a mumble, “Why aren’t the sex workers wearing shirts, Dean? It’s fairly cold outside, aren’t they uncomfortable?”

Dean shrugged, “They’re called  _strippers_ , man. And strippers don’t wear as many clothes as everybody else when they’re on the clock, it's their uniform."

Cas frowned, "Their uniform is underwear?"

Dean nodded, "Yeah. Plus, it’s like a solid seventy Fahrenheit in here. Don't worry about them. They’re fine.”

Cas pointed across the room, “That Kenyan man over there with the braids has a similar physique to yours. He’s two inches shorter than you, though.”

Dean leaned over and followed Castiel’s hand. He was right. They were built kinda the same. Very tall, broad shoulders, a flat yet soft stomach.  He also had bowlegs. Dean nodded, “You’re right. He does.”

Cas wrinkled his brow, “Does that mean that you can be a stripper too, Dean? They seem to be making an awful lot of money here. He has over four hundred dollars in his underwear. Who can you speak to about this? Where does one apply to become a stripper, Dean? I think you would make a great stripper.”

Dean cackled, head tilting back and arm wrapping around his friend’s shoulders as he laughed drunkenly, “Aww thanks, man. You’d make a great stripper too.”

Castiel shook his head heavily, “No, Dean. I’m an angel. I have no experience taking off clothes. You, on the other hand, have been doing it your whole life.”

Dean smiled blissfully, “Cas, dude, look at you. You wouldn’t even have to prance around to be good at it. That man you’re wearing used to be a runner. I bet all the money I’ve got on me that you’re totally hot under that holy tax accountant getup.”

“He was an air time ad salesman, Dean, he was surprisingly horrid at mathematics and paid others to go through his financial work for him, not the other way around. I don't know how many times I have to tell you this.” Castiel corrected, blinking slowly, “And, I’m not hot. This vessel maintains a healthy equilibrium while I am inside. You shouldn’t bet your money so foolishly.”

Laughing loudly, Dean clapped him on the shoulder, “You’re so fucking funny, dude, you’re my best friend. Do you know that?” Dean gazed at him drunkenly, “Little angel man... you’re so funny, little angel man...  _gosh_... you have a  _pretty_  mouth...”

Castiel asked, “Do I?”

Dean started to stare unabashedly, "Yeah. Your lips are all full and... plump and... soft looking... like a ripe peach blossoming off of a Georgia vine in the summer time."

Cas cocked his head at Dean and muttered, "I don't understand what your talking about, Dean."

Dean nodded, "I know and that makes it  _so_  hot."

Cas swayed in his seat, "My vision is blurred a bit. I think I may have had too much to drink."

Dean added with a drunken chuckle, "That's hot too."

Cas gave Dean an impatient glare, "Am I misunderstanding your usage of the word 'hot'?"

Dean continued to laugh, "You definitely are."

“But--“ Castiel opened his mouth to respond and an olive skinned woman with long, silky dark hair came by to stand between the angel’s legs and grab his tie. He looked her over with confusion, barley even noting her sparkly pink brassiere, lacy black panties, fishnet stockings, and pink stiletto heels as she crowded his space and spoke in a husky voice, “Hey there, Daddy. I’m bored. You want to play?”

The angel tilted his head to the side, “I'm sorry. You must be mistaken, I'm not your father...”

Dean stifled a chuckle, watching the millinea old angel while a stripper in a bra flirted fruitlessly with him. She started to giggle, leaning in and straddling his waist with her knees resting on the fuzzy pink couch as music blared in the background, “You’re cute! I like you!”

Cas blinked, swaying in his seat as he spoke, “Cute? I don't think I can take that as a compliment given my age.”

She nodded and bit her lip, running her hands up his chest, “Mmm hmm, sure.”

He scanned her with a searching look, “Why are you pulling at my clothes? Do they offend you?”

The girl frowned, giving up easily and pushing at his chest with splayed painted fingers, “Okay. Who made you come in here? You are genuinely confused about where you are."

Cas huffed indignantly, "No one made me. I came in here of my own volition. The sign said Gentleman's Club and Dean here is a gentleman. I also am wearing a gentleman, so I figured that this is the proper facility for us to patron seeing as we are both... gentlemen."

The woman's face fell as she processes his words, understanding immediately, "Oh. Oh, honey. This is not... jeez, how do I put this?"

Cas spoke simply, "I am aware that the workers' uniforms are several articles of lingerie and you all generally dance around the 'gentlemen' for money." 

"At least I don't have to explain that part." The woman sighed in relief, letting her hands rest upon her nearly bare shapely hips. 

"I also assume that is why you are over here talking to me. To procure my money." Cas stated, "But I am not in need of your services, so you may take your leave, miss."

She shrugged, leaning over to Dean suggestively, "Well does  _he_  require my services? Because a girl wouldn't mind doing a favor for a man so hot."

Castiel spoke up loudly, "For father's sake, can someone please tell me what the word 'hot' means!"

Dean started laughing again, "Cas. Please. Stop talking."

Cas said, "No. I don't wanna. I'm blurry and I'm intoxicated and want to know what that word means! Since you're ignoring my confusion, I will ask this young lady here because I sense she's quite the intellectual despite her overt suggestions to speak of lighter subjects.”

She let out a small smile, “I am, actually. I have a doctorate in pediatrics. I just do this to pay off my student loans.”

“You heal children?” Castiel beamed widely.

The girl nodded, “One could say that.”

"Hearing that made my chest feel odd." Cas pondered for a moment, eyes glazing over as he looked upon her face and traveled down to her sparkly, eye catching bra. “May I lay my hands on your breasts?” Castiel asked politely, “I hear it’s customary to ask first.”

The girl nodded, “It is. Thank you for doing that. Go nuts, man.”

Dean watched as the angel raised his hands confidently and cupped them around the sides of her well-fitting bra, gently caressing her chest for a moment. He blamed the alcohol on his dry mouth and raised heart rate as Cas’s thumb ran over the center of it as if he were stroking the bare nipple. A shudder went through Dean as he gazed greedily. Castiel’s face was stone cold serious as he nodded, “You should get your left breast checked out immediately. Cells are starting to clump in the lower region of the mammary. It’s benign, but still worth further examination.”

She gasped, “Whoa! Really?”

Castiel nodded, “Yes.”

“Shit, thanks.” The woman placed her hands where his were and pressed until she raised her eyebrows, “Holy cow, there it is. I never even noticed it. The best thing for lumps is early detection, man, I can’t thank you enough for finding that for me,” she bit her lip before smiling gratefully and reaching into the side of her panties before pulling out a small packet full of green pills and handing them to him, “Here.”

Cas cocked his head to the side, “What are these?”

The girl replied with a kiss to his cheek, “The good stuff. As thanks for having the decency to check me out while feeling me up.”

Dean snatched the packet from Castiel as the woman waved goodbye. He held it up to his face, squinting down the green and blue chalky pills before nodding with a big grin, “Aww shit, man. She gave us high grade pain killers... and I think I see some ex in there too. You should give angelic mammograms to everyone!”

Cas cocked his head to the side, “What do we need pain killers for, Dean? We’re not injured.”

Dean rolled his eyes, grabbing his pocket satchel and placing two of them into his friend’s hand, “Yeah, yeah, I know. Now, down the hatch, angel. Come on. Don’t make me push you.”

Cas shrugged lazily, popping the pills into his mouth and swallowing them before asking his charge, “Do you want any?”

Dean laughed chasing his chuckle with some whiskey. He felt the burn of alcohol slide down his throat along with the laughter and commented, “Nah, buddy, I’m dizzy enough as it is. But, you? On this shit? That, I gotta see.”

It took about fifteen minutes and two more pills before Castiel started pulling off his tie and leaning back on the couch. Another three minutes later, he was unbuttoning his shirt. His skin was sweating and he was grinning and pushing his dark hair off of his forehead with a sloppy smile. Dean asked how he was feeling and he told Dean that he felt everything.  He said that the room was exploding with color and that his clothes were too tight on his skin. Dean’s green eyes wandered along his friend’s exposed chest and felt his mouth dry up and a lump rise in his throat as a heat settled low in his belly. He kind of wants to touch Cas. Not repeatedly though. Just once to see what he felt like.

Dean watched as the angel’s skin grew feverish and strippers started congregating to their couch the minute Dean followed his lead. Soon, the two men were sitting close beside each other with their shirts all unbuttoned, gazing at the whole club in wonder as ladies and men draped themselves all over them. Cas started laughing and pointing at random shit in the room as a fit tanned man named Carlos started sucking on his neck. Dean took more sips from his flask and laughed along with him when the comely blonde Tori started pushing his flannel aside and palmed at the soft bare chest underneath.

Man, Cas is pretty fucking sexy for a nerd angel. Especially when he lets loose like this, all strung out on pills and liquor. He looks like something out of a 1950’s porn mag with the sweaty skin and raven hair and dark stubble and bedroom eyes.

Fuck, he’s hot when he’s high.

That stick is out of Cas’s ass alright. It’s miles away from here. Cas let himself be swept away and ravished by the group of barely clothed people, touched on and jaw bit at while Dean wants nothing more than to lick that neck, fist that hair, taste those lips, rub off on his ugly black slacks, come hard all over his stubbly face, suck on those dusky nipples and then do lines of blow on his tight chest and smoke weed until they fall asleep in a pile of naked skin. Dean wants to wake up the next morning all sweaty and gross and hung over, fuck Cas’s face in the shower, and do this whole night all over again.

Is that weird?

Nah.

He’s just drunk.

Besides, it’s not like he hasn’t fucked a dude before--shit, it’s not like he hasn’t fucked an  _angel_  before--but, Cas is different.  _Was_  different.

What’s weird is that Dean doesn’t recall ever wanting to put his dick anywhere near  _this_  guy before. His wet dreams still featured sexy twins with double D’s. His spank bank is still filled with tits, pussy, and the occasional sweaty erect twinky dude at his mercy when he’s feeling adventurous. But, Cas? No. Never. He’s this strong, rumbling, unbelievably lame, yet totally awesome angel that somehow managed to work his way into Dean’s friend list. Well, he  _was_  that anyway. Now, he’s a Fallen angel becoming more and more human by the day who’s currently blissed out of his mind on alcohol and ecstasy laced pain killers with what  _might_  either be the beginnings of a boner or a really impressive wrinkle in his pants and his usual tightly buttoned white oxford shirt open to the world.

Dean wishes he had gone and bet his money earlier. Dude actually  _is_  hot. In every sense of the word.

He doesn't particularly identify with the stereotypical "thirsty" men of the modern day and age, but right now he was parched. He was downright  _dehydrated_. For some reason, Dean just  _wants_. So desperately. He wants Cas laid out on his bed in the throes of passion. He wants him doggy style, missionary, sixty-nine, on his knees, on a wall, on the floor, on the Moon, upside down, right side up, every way imaginable. He wants everything. Now.

Dean’s eyes are still locked on Cas and he knows he should stop it. He really should, but sweet fuck he can’t. Look at that body. He could ride it all night long. Look at that jawline. He could cut himself on that sharp angle. Look at that stubble. He could rub his face all over the scratchy skin until it hurt. Shit. Dean just wants to... he needs to... he’s got to...

Fuck.

Now he’s half hard.

Two busty topless ladies in frilly panties made their way over to them, but the angel and hunter were too strung out to understand why they were so important to the lingerie clad women. They wordlessly exchanged knowing glances at each other, took Dean and Cas by the hand, and started to lead them away from the crowd. The music still pulsed behind them as they left the bustling dance hall and made their way into a dark hallway with a wooden door interrupting the ugly flower wallpaper every few feet. The woman holding Cas's hand opened a door about halfway through the hall, the music behind them fading to a dull thrum of background noise. The woman holding Deans' hand closed the door behind her and gave them a flirty look before she and her friend tossed the two men onto a bed beside each other. Well, then. Looks like his prayers were answered. Bye bye, ladies. Dean’s boarding the all express train to Cas town. Choo choo, motherfuckers.

Or not.

One stripper headed straight for jovial, blissed out Cas, unbuckling his belt and asking if he was okay with her doing this. Cas asked her if she was going to perform a sexual act on him and she laughed and said yes for a price. He looked over at Dean with curiosity and Dean gave him the thumbs up as another stripper did the same to him. He didn’t care what she was doing or how much it cost as long as he got to see what was hiding under those black slacks of his.

Another woman started unzipping Dean’s jeans and asked if he wanted to join their party. Uh, hell yeah. Dean reached into his back pocket and handed the women the bills before stowing it back underneath him. He barely had the time to look back over at Castiel before hearing a deep moan not three inches away from him. Dean turned his head and watched as his friend’s thick, hard cock disappeared into the plump pink lips of the woman. Wait, that’s not what a lap dance looks like.

Shit. This is definitely not a strip club. This is something totally different. Strippers don’t hook.  _Hookers_  hook. And he just paid for some hookers, completely smashing his one golden sex rule: no cash for ass. But, you know what? What the hell? The world’s ending anyway. Might as well bang a few gongs before the lights go out. Dean watched as Cas’s lip curled in a small smile as he placed his strong, yet gentle hands on the woman’s bobbing head. Cas panted and caught his lower lip in his teeth, tossing his head back and arching his back like a feral cat. Fuck. Cas is enjoying the shit out of this blow job. It’s crazy hot.

So what Dean had another woman’s lips on his cock, sucking it down like a lollipop. Dean could give less of a fuck. Yeah, it felt good, but what felt better was imagining that the tight, wet heat around his dick was Cas and those faces he was making right now were all for Dean. Moaning in that bone deep voice, panting Dean’s name into the pillow all confused and innocent and needy.  _Yes, Cas, lean back. Bite your lip. Run your hand down your body. You’re so hot. You’re so fucking hot._

Cas suddenly flicked his big blue eyes to Dean’s and spoke with a lazy grin, “I like this a lot. What is this?”

Dean moaned at the feeling of tongue right above his balls, “It’s called getting head, Cas. And, yeah, it generally feels fucking amazing.”

“O-okay, Dean.  _Dean_. You are all very strange, human creatures. Akin to the baboon genus, and yet... so innovative, the things you can do with your mouths.” Cas started to laugh, head lolling back as he asked the busy woman between his legs, “No wonder it's possible make a living out of-- _oh_ , oh...  _hallelujah, bless His holy name Jesus Christ my Lord and Savior_...“

Dean interrupted him with a finger against his lips, “Shush it with the sexy talk, okay? You’re not very good at it and you’re prettier when you shut up.”

Cas looked at Dean again, sighing in loss as Dean’s finger left his lips before blinking slowly, “You think I'm pretty?"

Dean smirked, “Drop dead gorgeous, honey--”

Castiel’s face grew stern and sober as he answered with a commanding voice, “I think you're pretty too, Dean.”

Dean let out a loud keen and panted greedily, “ _Fuck_ , really?”

Cas nodded hard, "Yes. You're so beautiful. Righteous. Strong-willed. A bit of a douchebag, but forgivable due to the weight of your other qualities."

"Did you just call me a douchebag?" Dean laughed drunkenly.

Cas stated slowly, "Yes, I did. Blame the drink. And the pain killers. And the ecstasy..."

Dean leaned his head back with his trademark swagger, "Well, I just migh--"

"Quiet, Dean. Your brash commentary is completely unnecessary. Please, just lay there and let me watch you." Castiel brought his soft, thin fingers to Dean’s mouth and Dean desperately sucked the index and middle down into his mouth. He rubbed his tongue all along it and moaned against the angel’s skin like the whore he was, savoring the taste of Cas in his mouth like it was manna from the gods. Cas gave a surprised look and breathed harder, looking away from him and letting out a moan as he sucked, “ _Dean_! Dean, yes! I like that...” The angel’s chest grew red as he moaned louder and louder, the lights in the room flickering as he panted out Dean’s name like an ancient prayer before announcing that he was approaching orgasm. That has to be the geekiest thing Dean has ever heard in bed and he’s pretty sure the hookers traded looks of confusion, but it was all worth it when Castiel came.

Oh, yeah. This is definitely Cas's first orgasm. There's this look of bewilderment hidden inside his relaxed face like he's not sure what's going on, but he really, really, really likes it. The words leaving his throat were chopped up into sharp gasp-like breaths and his eyes closed gently as he rode out the waves of pleasure. His back arched hard and his hips snapped with every spurt of come into the woman’s mouth. The angel’s skin flushed a soft pink with a light sheen of sweat along the center of his bare, tight chest. Dean’s pulse quickened as he watched his friend melt into the throes of orgasm for the first time and jerked when Cas suddenly let out a swear. Loudly. Dean heard it and he said clearly the words “Keep sucking...  _Dean_! Keep sucking!” while he came down this girl’s throat.

The angel started to pant as he came down from it suddenly, a hand on his chest as he breathed hard. Dean pushed the hooker away from him with a gentle hand before straddling Cas’s torso and grabbing onto his own stiff cock, “Shit, man, let me come on your face. Please. Please, man.”

Castiel nodded vigorously, eyes wide as he quaked with aftershocks. Dean felt his hands at the base of his thigh and he started to spank it rough and hard right over Cas’s heavily lidded, high as fuck blue eyes.

Holy shit, there Cas was--watching him jerk off. His usual stony expression was replaced with a calm, post-coital bliss, and his large eyes held such passion. Yet, for some reason, Dean had just now noticed that Castiel  _always_  looked at Dean this way. From the beginning. It wasn’t raw or sexual or needy, it was something else. Something strong and true and undeniably  _Cas_. Something that Dean couldn’t for the life of him shake. He could feel himself at the edge from this one moment--this one stare.

He asked Cas to open his mouth and, hell, Dean didn’t think he’d actually do it. Until he did. He opened his mouth and stuck out his long, wet, pink tongue and Dean came so fucking hard across his friend’s lips that he thought he was going to black out. Long, globby, wet stripes of jizz squirted onto and around Castiel’s flushed mouth. The flat of Cas’s tongue swept curiously across the head of his cock and Dean came even harder as he layered his friend’s mouth with more and more spunk.

He panted, “Oh, shit. Oh, swallow it, Cas.”

Cas licked the come into his mouth and locked eyes with Dean, “As you wish, Dean.”

If Dean hadn’t spent it all just then, he would have come again.

 

November 9th 2011

 

Cas had lost all of his grace. He was basically human now. Dean has to give him major props though, dude was acting like it wasn’t killing him and pulling off the role like a champ. But, he slipped some times. Dean could see it in those moments in the car when he thinks that Dean’s not looking. But, that’s the catch. Dean’s always looking. He’s always checking up on him, making sure he’s okay.

At first, anyway.

Dean thought that Cas was beginning to become a replacement for Sam, but that could never happen. Sam was Dean’s little brother, he was his. Castiel would never be his. Especially not in the way that Sam was. Besides, the guy simply had nowhere to go. If he had any other safe place to land, he wouldn’t be here with Dean.

He can see it in his vacant blue eyes when they sit beside each other in the Impala.

Castiel longs to be elsewhere--to be what he was.

Last week, he told Dean that he could no longer feel his wings. The ether was no longer attached to his senses. Everything caused him pain. He was hungry, emotional, tired, cold, and empty inside. Just... plain old empty. He felt like he didn’t belong in his own skin. And that has to be the worst feeling in the world.

It was a long while before he even attempted to speak of it, and when he did, it was hedged around sarcasm and blasé intent. He asked Dean if he remembered where he put the pain killers that they got from the stripper doctor in February. Dean said that he did.

As they sat alone beside each other in the dry motel room for two, Castiel held out a hand towards Dean and he spoke, “May I have a few of them?”

Dean shook his head as the grainy motel television fizzed in the background, “Dude, no. Those pills are drugs. Hardcore drugs. You don’t need to be touching those. Ever.”

Castiel cocked his head to the side and said tiredly, “But, you gave me some in February and seemed insistent about them. Why not now?”

“You were all juiced up on angel mojo back then, Cas, nothing like that could have hurt you. But, now that you’re human,  _everything_  can hurt you. Drugs are a powerful thing. Dangerous, addictive... they could snatch your life, man. You could accidentally take too many and die right here right now.” Dean educated.

Cas answered wistfully, “So?”

Dean felt his heart shatter in his chest as he looked into Castiel’s pale blue eyes. He had grown cold and distant, just like he himself had. Dean’s bred another one of himself--a clone of his emotional distress and mental hardness all wrapped into the broken shell of an angel beside him. Cas felt too much. Way too much. And now, he just wanted to feel nothing. He wanted to be numb. Dean could kick himself for doing what he did next, but there’s no way of erasing the past. He did it. He walked across the room, rustled around in his duffel bag and felt around for the pair of jeans that he stored the packet in and rifled around in the back pocket.

Shaking the pill filled bag, Dean made his way over to the chair beside his friend. He watched as Cas’s eyes grew wide and hopeful, mouth twitching with the ghost of a smile. Dean ripped it open and pulled out one green pill before handing it to his friend, instructing, “One pill. One. I’m not having you keel over on me. I need my right hand man, alright?”

Cas raised an eyebrow as he stared at the pill, “You  _need_  me?”

Dean nodded, shrugging and rubbing his hand self-consciously across the back of his neck, “Yeah, so what?”

Castiel placed the pill on his tongue before Dean could say another word and dry swallowed it down, rasping out, “I can’t possibly imagine why.” Dean said nothing and looked on as Cas leaned back into the chair and waited for the drug to take hold. He didn’t know what to say and Cas didn’t seem adamant to continue talking. He just sat there, head tipped back and eyes closed in the chair and waited too.

Dean winced as the drug started to show effect after a few minutes. Castiel’s brow started to sweat and the edge of his mouth raised in a free form grin, “These make me feel really good... like I’m flying and my skin’s ice cold but also on fire and my heart’s thrumming in my chest. I can feel my heartbeat again, Dean. I can feel it.”

Dean sighed slowly, watching his actions unravel before him as Cas started pulling at the buttons of his blue oxford nice and slow. Fuck, he’s  _turning into it_  again. That sexy, eye catching minx; that embodiment of rapture; that incubus of a venus flytrap. The angel opened his eyes and looked over at Dean with a pupil blown gaze, “Can you take one too? Get high with me.”

“No. I shouldn’t.” Dean replied.

Cas leaned up and hopped over skillfully to straddle Dean’s hips. He ran his fingers down Dean’s chest and looked into his eyes playfully as a kitten, “Please, Dean... take one and do it with me... let’s feel the colors together... come on, please...”

“I should just look out for you. Stay sober. Make sure you’re okay while you’re... you know...” Dean said quietly.

Cas tipped his head to the side in pure confusion, “What?”

Dean bit his lip, face growing red as he replied stiffly, “While you’re  _high_.”

Cas ran his hand through his raven hair and messed it up a bit, looking at Dean through his eyelashes with an unfocused candor as he spoke softly, “Why are you so bothered by it? I’m not addicted or anything. I just really liked how I felt the last time and I want to feel like that again. I’ve dealt with a lot over the last few months and I just don’t want to remember right now. I just don’t...  _oh_...” Cas breathed hard and looked past Dean with a sloppy grin emerging onto his face, “This feels so good, oh, my.” Castiel chuckled lightly under his breath and closed his eyes gently, “I feel like... I really just want to touch everything and smell everything... everything smells so good, Dean.”

Dean chuckled back that hint of lust he felt as Cas leaned back with his hips slotted against Dean’s, sweating and blissed out. He looks so fucking hot like this. He looks bedraggled and sexed up and ready for thirteen more goes in the sack like this. It doesn’t make sense and Dean knows it. He flat out doesn’t understand why Cas being under the influence of lethal drugs turns him on. It should revolt him! Anger him! Put the protector in his spirit and will him to end Cas’s contact with it. But, for some strange reason, Dean likes watching his angel lose control.

The damned guy looks so happy and spirited and free. Why doesn’t he look like this all the time? Happy. Castiel is happy. Well, as happy as he can be abusing pain killers and ecstasy. All that Dean cares about is the fact that Cas has something to smile about and Dean helped give him that.

So, yeah, he watched.

Dean gazed Cas over as the drug took him higher and higher. Cas started running his hands down Dean’s chest again. He suddenly started pulling the final buttons off of his own shirt, shrugging out of it and tossing it lazily at the edge of the room before laughing out and looking topless at Dean with a hazy grin, “What are you looking at?”

“You,” Dean replied easily, “You stupid fuck.”

Cas chuckled lazily, “How come... how come you’re allowed to use that word and I can’t?”

Dean smirked, “I’ve been human longer. I’ve earned the right.”

Cas shook his head slowly, “What’s the big point in it? I thought ‘fuck’ just meant sex and trouble.”

Dean shrugged, not backing down from the eye contact, “It does.”

Cas asked quietly with slow blinking eyes and wet lips, “Well, you called me one. Is that what I am?”

Dean felt himself respond aloud, “Right now, you are.”

Castiel started to smile, leaning his hips against Dean as he rode out another wave of high, “...so, are you saying that you’re scared of me or attracted to me, Dean?”

“I...” Dean glanced back at him, face heating up as he scratched the back of his neck nervously. He can’t answer this truthfully. He can’t. Cas and him can’t do it with each other. They’ve got one focus: the mission. They can’t let anything get in the way of that, especially sex. There’s a devil to kill, and outside of that, nothing matters. Not feelings. Not emotions. Not passion. Nothing. Especially this. Hell, it’s probably proximity making things so weird. Dean’s never been this close before with someone who’s not his little brother Sam and his walls (while not lowering) have accepted Castiel as not-a-threat. Add that to seeing him every day, watching him come out of the shower in nothing but a towel, stitching up his cuts, smelling his hair in the car, standing close, sharing beds, sharing heat, sharing breath... the whole nine... add that up with the buckets of attraction Dean feels for him whenever he lets go like this and it equals out to nothing but well... sex and trouble. He spoke softly, “You can’t talk like that Cas. Come on, don’t be--“

Cas cut him off sharply, “A stupid fuck?”

Dean blinked at the sudden lash out from his drug addled friend paired with the shudder of need Dean feels when Cas swears, “Well, yeah.”

Castiel scoffed, “I’m not stupid.”

Dean started to laugh, “Oh, but you’re completely okay with being called a ‘fuck’.”

Castiel shrugged and leaned back further against the air behind him, “Not really, but it’s true. The trouble part anyway, I don’t know about the sex.”

Dean looked him up and down slowly, “Well, I do and... just forget it, okay?”

Castiel smiled goofily, heavy lidded eyes drooping, “Aha! I  _knew_  you were interested in me.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “Okay, slow down, Bella Swan. Reel it in. I just want to break a couple of headboards with you during our down time. I don’t want to be your little boyfriend or anything. Don’t  _read_   _into it_ , okay?”

“I don’t want you to be my boyfriend either. No offense, Dean, but you’d be a horrible romantic partner. Inattentive, rude, hurtful--among other things.” Cas replied sloppily, “Besides, I can’t see myself with anything but a blade through my chest at the end of the day. But, I would be interested in engaging in sexual release like I did the last time I was under the influence. It felt really nice.”

Dean said tersely, “Well, your pick up lines still need work, we’re low on stripper money, and I can’t afford another hooker so--“

Castiel started to laugh loudly before cutting Dean off with a simple, “Oh, yes, because I am an innocent baby in a trench coat incapable of getting off without having sex.”

Dean raised his eyebrows and his face heated up as blood rushed downward against his better judgment, “Wait, a second.  _You_  masturbate?  _You_?”

Cas nodded, “Yeah, I do it sometimes. You know, when you’re not around because that would be uncustomary.”

“No way. I refuse to believe you do that.” Dean cocked his head to the side, asking with a smirk.

Cas shrugged running his hand lazily along the inseam of his worn out jeans, “Well, I do. And it’s fun. And if I weren’t high as hell right now, I wouldn’t have told you any of that because it embarrasses me greatly to have demeaned myself to the base, human act of self-pleasuring.”

Dean gazed at Castiel’s wet lips and demanded, “I don’t believe you. Prove it.”

Cas scoffed, “How?”

Dean replied, “Tell me what you think about to get yourself off.”

Cas answered, “That’s a personal question.”

Dean plucked up a little bit of courage, placing his hands gently on Cas’s lower back “We’ve shared a bed like eight times in the past four months. You use the toilet next to me while I brush my teeth, okay? There’s no such thing as personal when it comes to us.”

Castiel smiled lazily, “But, I thought we couldn’t talk about sex.”

Dean asked, “A guy can’t change his mind?”

“Not if he's going to change it right back after he gets what he wants.”

“Try me.”

“I’m unsure.”

“Don’t be. I won’t judge.”

“Fine.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?” Dean leaned against the chair, pulling himself in closer to his high friend, “What do you think about?”

Castiel said easily, “You."

Dean nodded slowly with a cocky grin, "Of course."

Cas continued, closing his eyes softly as he spoke, "With your head between my thighs. Filthy with car grease. Wearing _nothing_ but a pair of unzipped jeans and that annoying smirk you get when you’re high on chauvinism.”

“Shit, really?” Dean smirked out in response, “Me? Sucking you off? That’s pretty flattering.”

Cas paused, “I never said you were sucking me off...”

Dean’s eyebrows fell from their arched position as he stated plainly, “Wait, wait, wait. You dream of me eating you out?”

Cas blushed and looked away from him, “I know it’s a bit strange, but you have to admit... your mouth and your tongue and... and your beard... rubbing and biting and licking... so close to where I want it... I hate how human I am right now, it’s making my emotions susceptible to something so mundane...”

Dean let out another smirk, “Oh, no. It’s not a problem. I was just thrown off guard for a second. I mean, I don’t always eat ass. But when I do, I lick the milk bowl clean if you know what I’m talking about.”

Cas shrugged and spoke mystically into the room, “Well, that’s nice for you then. That just seems to be enough for me to reach my peak is all.” Castiel gave Dean a firm look as he mocked the hunter’s previous statement, “I don’t want you  _reading into it_.”

Dean bit his lip and ran his hands up Cas’s back while maintaining that eye contact, “So, you don’t think it means anything, hmm? No underlying truth to how much dream!you likes dream!me dream-kissing you where it’s naughty?”

Castiel shook his head slowly, smiling softly, “Of course it doesn’t. We spend a lot of time together and I’m going through a stage of sexual awakening. You’re the only person around who gives me the time of day, so it makes perfect sense that my psychosis would latch onto you when analyzing a list of prospective partners.”

Dean asked slowly, “You can’t actually believe that bullshit... after all we’ve been through.”

Cas blinked, “Yeah. I can. I’m not having sex with you. It would be catastrophic.”

Dean made a face, “Well, I wouldn’t say  _catastrophic_...”

Cas replied lazily, “I would. The act would be pleasurable, orgasmic, pure ecstasy, but... I fear afterward I would become insatiable. I have a fairly high sex drive and a jealousy problem. I would want your attention too much and we have to focus on the mission. We can’t kill the devil if I’m unbuckling your pants every hour and slitting the throat of anyone who so much as looks at you. And God forbid if you begin to have feelings for me. Then, we’d be stuck with each other. I hear that happens to humans who copulate monogamously.”

Dean shrugged, “You’ve really thought about this haven’t you?”

Castiel added briefly as he swayed, “What else is there to do during long car rides filled with processed cheese snacks and unresolved sexual tension?”

Dean said with ease, “Touché.”

Castiel gave him a warm smile, “Yes.”

“So... we’re not doing this,” Dean gestured between the two of them, “Right?”

Cas shook his head slowly, “No.”

Dean ran his hand through his short blonde hair before asking, “But, that doesn’t mean we can’t like make out or anything, right?”

Cas laughed, “I don’t trust myself enough for that. I would have to have you and then it would all be downhill from there.”

Dean nodded curtly, “Because of your control issues, I can’t know what the inside of your mouth tastes like?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, damn,” Dean replied with a shrug, “I take that as a compliment.”

Cas slurred, “You really shouldn’t.”

 

 

June 2nd 2012

 

The Croatoan virus spread through the East Coast states starting in New England, and the government issued a lock down of the areas. That didn’t stop it though. The Croats bit the guards. The virus started to run rampant through Pennsylvania and Ohio, but it was contained. For now anyway.

Collecting resources enough for two in case of emergency was a major bitch. They had to keep enough cash, water, food, and toilet paper to last them a few months just in case anything major went down and the two had to barricade themselves indoors. What was even more of a bitch was lugging all of that around with them. It was fucking with the mileage on Baby what with the weighing down of the car, and keeping their nonperishables in the trunk with spillable gun oil with a tricky screw-on top wasn’t always conducive to a day without problems.

Dean grew weary as the search for the Colt was wearing thin. All of his leads lead to dead ends and all of the demons he captured gave him nothing but the tip of their boot. So, yeah. Out of desperation, he cast his net to other hunters. Building a team of people he could actually trust was harder than he thought (which is saying a lot, because he didn’t think much of it at all) and talking to people who aren’t Cas for more than two days in a row can cause Dean’s personality to chafe. Badly.

At least Castiel’s people skills were getting better. He could conduct investigations without Dean holding his hand through the whole thing and after a while, he started to go on his own. Theirs was becoming less of a dependent/dependee relationship, which was definitely a good thing. Now, they could search two places at once without Dean getting worried that Cas will fuck up and get himself shot and killed due to bad timing.

But, don’t get it twisted, now. Dean is still the shot-caller and what he says always goes. When he gives an order, there will be no conversation--there will be obedience. After eons as a soldier that’s one thing that Castiel grabbed hold of and clung to with ease. If anything, Cas can follow a damned request. Easily. Happily. With bells on. And, that’s all Dean needs from him when out on the field.

Sometimes though, Dean likes to test that theory a little more than usual just to make sure his position as the team boss stays uncontested.

After a long day of pretending to be CDC and breaking into the medical records at a local hospital in Kentucky, Dean snagged Cas from the bustling, book filled building and whisked him out of the town  _right in the middle of a case_. Cas complied easily and without question. Good. He’s learning.

They drove and drove and drove, saying nothing and pretending to listen to the pounding rock and roll music through the stereo and when they arrived at the motel, they said even more nothing until they changed out of their clothes.

They had stopped changing in separate rooms a couple of weeks after their little ecstasy-infused talk. They both  _looked_  without abandon. They both stared too long. They both gave each other knowing glances as the old clothes slid off of their bodies and new ones were pulled slowly, tantalizingly back on. They both beat off to it when the other wasn’t around. They both left it unacknowledged and life went on.

As for today, the two weary men got into sweatpants and lay on separate beds beside each other, shooting the shit and playing video games on their phones. It was quiet and Dean kind of liked it that way. They didn’t need to say anything... well, they did, but it wasn’t a pressing matter necessary to their existence, so yeah. It was  _quiet_.

Or, at least it was until Cas said this: “So, Dean... about that ecstasy...”

“No.” Dean cut him off, “No pills. We’ve been through this. It’s not safe.”

Cas rolled his eyes at his phone as he popped three jellies in his game of Candy Crush, “Since when do you give a rat’s ass about  _safe_?”

Dean sent over a glare at Cas before looking back at his Farm Heroes Saga and cracking three eggs to make a chicken, “Since you became killable. I told you, Cas. You’re my right hand man. I can’t have you dying on me, dude, come on.”

Cas mumbled under his breath, “Selfish.”

Dean raised his eyebrows at his phone, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You’re selfish,” Cas put the phone on his lap, light glowing on his bare chest as he continued, “It doesn’t matter what I want as long as you have me covered from head to toe in bubble wrap because I can’t take care of myself. What you think and what you need are always most important. My opinions don’t matter. What I need doesn’t matter. Nothing does. When was the last time you asked how I felt?”

Dean matched up some carrots and earned a couple points against the raccoon, “September 19th. Sunday morning. I was in the bathroom shaving when I did and you were peeing next to me and told me to go fuck myself. So, I stopped asking.”

Cas replied, “I was peeing!”

Dean shrugged, “So?!”

Castiel sighed roughly, picking up his phone and matching up five blue hard candies to win a striped cookie, “So, I don’t like being interrupted while I’m urinating. Besides, I’m not a morning person. That was just a bad combination and an error on your part.”

Dean commented blandly as he tapped away on his phone, “Well, you sounded mad that I asked, so--“

“For the love of Pete,  _Dean_!” Cas hissed, tossing his phone down and walking over to the bed. He snatched Dean’s phone out of his hand and threw it onto his own bed before hopping on top of Dean and straddling his hips just like he did the last time. He pushed Dean to the headboard and placed his hands on either side of Dean’s head against the wood, staring into his eyes, “Here’s how I feel. I’m angry. I’m tired. I hate fighting. I hate watching you get disappointed over and over again. I hate listening to your dumb plans and I absolutely hate the fact that I’m human and useless and  _killable_.”

Dean opened his mouth, shifting under Castiel’s hips as he breathed Cas’s exhales. His heart rate sped up as he felt Cas’s warmth seeping in through his sweatpants. Dean’s not wearing a shirt, so he knows that Cas can see the reddening of his pale chest as he’s being straddled and blocked in just like the start of every wet dream he’s had since February. He’s lost and tired and pissy and Dean is so fucking attracted to him, but not as attracted to him as he is when Cas loses control. The fallen angel is close to his breaking point, but he’s not there yet. So, Dean’s waiting. Waiting for the moment when Cas tilts his head back and pants in frustration. He’s  _waiting_  for Cas to curse him out and go batshit. It’s so sexy when he does that.

Cas continues, “And while I can’t stand the fact that I can’t help you the way I know you want me to. You still look at me like I’m this big, strong angel and all I am is this weak, sloppy fuck up that can’t even stub his toe without bleeding. What I can’t stand even more is the fact that I’m disappointing you every single day by being the way that I am--“

“No, you’re not,” Dean disagreed.

“Yes.” Cas added, “I can’t run fast. I can’t smite. I can’t even stay awake all day without passing out from exhaustion. I just... I’m so  _frustrated_  with myself, and I know that that’s a handicap to you. Don’t even act like it’s not. And I...” Cas caught his breath as his eyes watered up and his voice wavered, but he didn’t dare let anything fall from them, “I don’t want to feel like a ‘stupid fuck’ for one minute out of my life. Can I not... can I not feel like that? For just one  _minute_ , Dean? Give me a pill. Please. I need to feel like I can let go.”

Dean shook his head, “No, Cas. I can’t let you do that to yourself. Once is an accident. Twice is a coincidence. Three times is a pattern. I can’t have you self-medicating and getting high every time you feel useless. That’s called an addiction, Cas.”

Cas grew quiet, hanging his head in shame, “I’m not addicted.”

Dean started, “Cas--“

Castiel grabbed Dean by the shoulders and slammed his back into the headboard, “I’m not addicted, okay! Now give me a fucking pill, Dean!”

Dean shook his head as his shoulders smarted from the pain, “No. I’m not going to feed you that poison.”

“Why won’t you listen, Dean?!” Cas pushed him again, eyes bloodshot red as he screamed out angrily, tears welling up in his eyes, “I’m tired and I’m angry and I’m scared and I’m not allowed to talk about how I feel and even if I do, I don’t know what to do with what I’m going through and I just want it to all stop, Dean, I just want it to stop! You’re keeping me from suppressing that, Dean! I don’t want to be the piece of shit I feel like! I don’t want to be the thing holding you back! Now, give me a goddamn pill or I’m walking out of the door and finding my own!”

Dean stared back at him in shock, “Cas...”

Castiel sniffed and leaned back on his knees, arms folding in around his body to hold himself together as he breathed, “I’m sorry. I just...” he looked into Dean’s eyes pitifully, “I need it, Dean. Please. I’m begging you.”

Dean reached up and wrapped his hands around Cas’s face, caressing his scratchy cheeks with his thumbs before looking into his haunted eyes, “Cas, baby, look at me. I don’t think any of that. Yeah, it sucks that you’re as powerful as I am. Yeah, it would be easier if you were all juiced up, but you’re not. You’re what I’ve got, and despite what you think... you're still exactly what I want. Because what I really need is not your strength or will or vigilance. What I need is you standing beside me every day with those ridiculously big blue eyes teaching me how important it is to put someone else’s life before your own. You’re still strong, Cas. And it may not be in here,” Dean poked at Castiel’s bicep, “But, it sure as hell... is in _here_ ,” Dean placed his hand over his friend’s heart, “And that’s what I love most about you. Your strength. And your will to go on. And the fact that you don’t pussy out and keep fighting for what you believe in. I need  _you_. Not your powers. And you have to see that.”

A soft clear tear dropped from the inner corner of Castiel’s right eye and Dean wiped at away as Cas whispered, “You really feel that way?”

Dean nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Cas spoke softly to Dean, “I need you too.”

Dean felt like his heart was falling right out of his chest, swelling up and growing big in his stomach, “I know, buddy.”

Cas leaned in close as Dean stroked his hair gently, “I would give anything... for you, Dean. I may have given up my powers, but... I still don't feel like that's enough.”

“I know you don't. I know. But it  _is_ , baby. You will always be enough.” Dean spoke quietly into Castiel’s space, closing the gap to press two quick, yet soft kisses to his friend’s lips. They were chaste and brief, but it set Dean’s soul on fire. His heart burst where it lay and his chest danced in flames. The flame of their kiss was so bright and so powerful and so good, that it erased all of the bad for that one moment they touched. But, he crossed that bridge--the one that they vowed to never even acknowledge was there in the first place. And Cas knows he has. Castiel looked back at him, shocked as Dean’s lips pulled away. He blinked slowly, eyes traveling down to Dean’s mouth and Dean muttered, “Shit. I... I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

"I'm sorry too. For what I'm about to do." Cas grabbed Dean by the back of his head and guided Dean’s lips back to his, surging in for a long, searching kiss. Sweet fuck, it felt perfect.

Dean spoke against's the angel's lips, "Cas... we can't. You said you didn't want t--"

Cas breathed softly, "I lied. I  _want_. I want so much I can hardly stand it."

"But, the mission. We have to stay focused. You said--" Dean kissed Cas's lips once more. Twice more. Still so perfect. Dean pulled back and gazed into Castiel's eyes. They were so full of confusion and lust and pain and need and love. God, there was so much love. Dean doesn't think he's ever been looked at like that. He didn't know how much he craved that look and fed off of Cas's body like a parasite. He grabbed Cas's face and tried desperately to kiss him breathless. Harder.  _Harder_. Yes, that's perfect.

So perfect.

So fucking perfect.

Cas hissed into his mouth, " _Fuck_  what I said last year. Fuck it all." Castiel's tongue played on the edge of sorrow and he kissed like a thunderstorm’s warning scent in the breeze. Dean knew he was being overdramatic. Their kiss was just the meeting of two mouths, pressing together and exchanging vibrations. But, his whole world was crashing down around him and everything he told himself he could never have was straddling his lap and kissing the ever loving shit out of him. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’s body and tugged him in closer.

Their bare chests collided and Cas barked out this soft keen-like growl as he ground his ass into Dean’s barely covered growing erection. His motions only encouraged it as Dean grew harder and harder underneath the insistent gyrating by Castiel’s sweatpant covered butt against it. Within the minute, he was hard as a rock, pressing up on Cas’s supple rear for contact. Dean imagined drilling into Cas in this position. Fuck.

Dean reached into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulled out the packet of drugs, slipping one of the green pills between their colliding and separating lips.

Cas took two of them like that and his grinding soon started to err on the side of sexually frustrating. His face was red and all blissed out just like Dean likes it. Castiel was getting sweaty and smiley and lip bitey. He was getting higher and higher and higher by the minute. Now instead of biting his own lip, he’s biting Dean’s. Furiously. Panting and mumbling nonsense as he ground his ass into Dean’s stiff boner like he needed it to live.

Dean laid back like the fucking pervert he is and watched. A high as fuck Cas was sweating and rubbing his hands on Dean’s body and losing control right there on top of him. Shit, he’s took two whole pills and he’s arching his neck and licking his lips like a porn star and he is getting  _high_. Cas is getting so fucking high. He’s stammering and grinning and giggling and pushing and kissing and grinding. Cas’s lips were everywhere: his jaw, his neck, his collarbone, his chest, his stomach, his hipbones. As he kissed all over Dean’s body, he nipped and licked with sweat pooling in the dip of his lower back. He lost all control. Castiel was nothing but lust and greed and inhibition and it was the hottest thing on the face of this planet.

Cas started tugging at Dean’s pants and before he could say a word, Cas wrapped his puffy pink lips around the head of Dean’s aching cock and fuck he felt good. His lips sucked gently at the tip of Dean’s erection, laving his tongue along the slit before pressing open mouthed dirty kisses up and down the angry, red length. Dean’s dick bobbed in front of Cas’s face as Cas led the flat of his soft, wet, warm tongue right there to the sensitive glans. That guy had no idea how to suck dick and it was obvious as hell, but damn if he didn’t have enough enthusiasm to change the game from disappointing to “holyfuckingshit he’s so  _innocent_  and  _virginal_  and  _turned on_  and he needs this cock like he needs air”.

He returned back to the tip and licked and licked and licked up each dribble of pre-come like a sweet, sexy kitten trying to get the last drop of cream from the bowl. Dean shuddered in pleasure, fingers running up and down the raspy skin of Cas's stubbled face as he went down on him. Yes. Finally. Cas was going down on him. Cas. His secret crush, his wet dream, his roommate, his best friend, his cohort in killing the Devil, his angel, an angel, a giant beacon of God and light in a dark world that is millions of years old, an inhuman warrior of the Lord, an all-holy all-encompassing all-powerful being from Heaven itself. Fuck, what is wrong with Dean? He did this to him. Cas--not Cas--Castiel, the millinia old creature followed Dean down this dark, weak, powerless place and now he's angry and confused and scared and cold and addicted to pain medication and still kneels at Dean's feet, taking his cock like it was a blessing from above. What kind of fucked up shit had he done to Cas? What kind of brainwashing did he put Cas through?! No. This shouldn't be happening. Cas deserves better. He shouldn't strive to be "good enough" for Dean. He needs his wings back, he needs his family. Not Dean. Not this. Not some grimy, weak human shoving his cock into his face and using this angel like a sex toy with eyes.

Dean grabbed Cas by the hair to pull him away before panting, “Cas, stop. We should slow down. We should--ahh!”

Cas swatted his hand away and started sucking hard on Dean’s twitching, engorged cock, taking in as much as he could as he bobbed his head and went deep and stroked what he couldn't fit. Dean lay a flustered mess on the bed as Cas teased him with his mouth. He begged Cas not to make him come. He said they couldn’t do this now. He said they were going too fast. He said everything he could think of to get Cas to let up on him, but he didn't mean it. Not really. He was enjoying this way too much. And Dean was ashamed of his lust and embarrassed of his passion. He wants. He wants. He wants so badly. But, Cas can't do this. He's bigger than this. Better. More deserving of the entire universe than he was of Dean. Still panting weakly, Dean said he refused to let go like this--that he couldn’t release, because that was accepting that what they had was  _good_  and he _liked it_  and he was  _ready_  to look at Cas every day and acknowledge that they had sex and that what they did was right. He told Cas to stop. He told Cas that this was his last chance. He told Cas that he would come in his mouth if he keeps doing that curling thing with his tongue. And he can’t come. He can’t. He  _can’t_!

Ignoring him, Cas sucked harder.

Dean reached his peak with a hard shout in Cas’s mouth, arching them off of the bed and spurting cum into Cas’s tight suction. He couldn't physically stop himself from moaning out loud in pleasure that he was in love with Cas he was so fucking in love with Cas  _fuck_  he was so fucking in love with Cas as he pressed Castiel’s face into his lap. He was coming so deep in Cas, he could feel it all sheathed in the heat of his drugged out friend’s mouth. It was pure and dirty and it felt so good. So good. Fuck it felt so good and  _Cas is high, you fucking asshole! Dean, what the hell did you just do?! You took advantage of him! You gave him the drugs! You made him do this_! Before he even came down, he pushed Cas’s face away from him, hissing out in anger to blame Cas for his own mistakes, “Why did you fucking do that?! You made me come, you asshole!”

Cas licked his come drizzled lips and grinned wickedly with hazy, drunk eyes, “I know.”

Dean pushed him further away from him, “Stop laughing, Cas! This is serious! It’s not funny!”

Castiel laughed lazily as he stumbled sloppily back onto the bed, “I know it's not funny, it's _great_. You love me. That's great. It's--whoa!” Cas lost his balance and slipped off of his knees, sprawled out on the bed like a vertigoed child as he mumbled with glee, "This bed is bumpy. But that's okay because you love me."

Dean blushed a heavy red. He knows he said it. He did. For some reason, he couldn't control himself. The orgasm was rough and satisfying down to its very core, bringing up all sorts of emotions that Dean kept buried deep. So, yes. He felt elated and greedy and passionate and sexy and really, really, really in love. When he opened his mouth to shout in ecstasy, "I'm so fucking in love with you" came out instead. But thank God above that he didn't start  _crying_  because he legitimately almost did. In his embarrassment, Dean did what he did best and said the worst possible thing imaginable, “Don’t be ridiculous! Of course I don’t love you! Just because I say something stupid during sex doesn't mean it's true!”

"Something stupid?" Castiel’s smile fell softly, eyes still hazy as he spat some of Dean’s come onto his chest.

Dean shrieked, “Eww, man! What the fuck are you doing, you drugged out whore?!”

Cas leaned up onto the bed and hissed into Dean’s face, “What the fuck  _me_?! Dean, what the fuck  _you_! Why did you just call me a whore?!”

Dean raised an eyebrow, “Because it’s true. I told you to slow down and you were too much of a slut to stop.”

“Seriously? You  _just_  said that you were in lo...” Cas pushed Dean back into the headboard and shook his head, grabbing his tee shirt off of the floor and pulling it over his head. He shook his head and slipped on his boots, grabbing the keys off of the table and making his way to the door, “I am so... fucking... confused. You were liking it and when you told me to stop, I didn't know if you were serious because of how into it you were and--shit! Did... did I hurt you? Did I rap--”

Dean stopped his speech harshly, "No! No, you didn't assault me, Cas. I'm okay. I just--"

Cas turned to look Dean in his eyes, "Didn't want to sleep with a drugged out whore?"

"No, I--" Dean hopped up, pulling his pants up and following Cas to the door, trying to hold it open before Cas could force it shut.

"You think I'm a whore?" Before he left, Cas said sharply with a gaze that could cut glass, “O _h_ , I’ll show you a  _whore_.”

Before he could follow, Cas slammed the door in his face. Dean opened it as quickly as he could but by then Cas had made it to the car. The man keyed the ignition and let it roar before taking off into the night. Dean swore. Fuck. Great.

 

June  6th 2012

 

Cas showed up on the doorstep of the motel room smelling like alcohol and three days of unwashed god-knows-what. The second Dean opened the door to see the hazy eyed fallen angel in front of him, he dragged the wobbly guy into a hard, crushing hug and looked him over. No scratches. No bruises. Thank God. Then, he cranked on the shower as warm as it would go and pushed Castiel into it. Cas’s eyes were pale and unfocused and his feet shuffled. He didn’t say much, but when he did, it was all slurring mumbles.

Not trusting Cas to not drown in the water, he stripped off his clothes and followed him in. The water was warmer than he had planned and Cas winced visibly at the heat before relaxing into Dean’s touch. Dean cleaned him up as best he could and washed all the dirt and mud out of his hair. He ran the wash cloth down his thin, runner’s chest before looking into Castiel’s eyes and saying softly into the rush of water, “I was so scared. You ditched your phone. I thought the worst, man, what were you thinking?”

Cas mumbled blearily under his voice, eyes slipping open and closed as he rocked back and forth.

Dean shook his head and paused the cloth on Cas’s chest, “What did you take?”

Cas shrugged sloppily and held the inner corner of his right arm to Dean before smiling foolishly. He tapped at the tiny holes there and leaned against the shower wall beside him.

Dean hissed, running his hands through his wet blonde hair, “Shit! Please tell me that you didn’t take heroin. Please.”

Castiel shook his head roughly and rested his head against Dean’s shoulder, mumbling incoherently as Dean shook him gently, “No... no heroine.”

“No, no. Ssh, baby. Quiet. Look at me,” Dean took Cas’s face in his hands and trained his eyes onto Cas’t pale blue unfocused ones and asked softly, “Tell me what you took. I’m not going to be mad. Just tell me, okay? What did you take?”

Cas snorted with a chuckle and blinked softly, “Something that sounded weird...  _coco_... ‘I’m in  _love with the coco_...”

Dean tilted his head to the side, squinting in confusion, “What? Who’s Coco? What did she give you?”

Cas quieted, “ _Baking_  soda! I got  _baking_  soda!”

Dean snapped his fingers in front of Cas’s face, “Come on, man! Focus!”

Cas started to mumble under his breath, “She said to me to cocococo. It would make me feel better... she said  _asshole_... you’re an asshole...”

Dean waved it off, “Yeah, I know. I’m a giant asshole. Now, what did Coco give you?”

Cas ruffled up with a pout, “No... I’m not telling you anything... still mad at you...”

Dean’s eyes shifted down to Castiel’s bruised arm, “Coco? Coco’s not a person, is she?”

Cas shook his head wildly, “No, no, no. Not a girl.  _Coco_.”

Dean swore and looked away from Castiel for a second, “Oh, fuck, do you mean cocaine?”

Cas started to nod, “Yeah, that! I took that! ...what’s cocaine again?”

“Shit!” Dean turned off the water and steered Cas out of the tub, patting him down with a towel as his mind searched of options on what to do, “Shit, shit, shit. Cocaine is bad, Cas. It’s very bad. You can’t ever take that again.”

“Fuck you. You’re not my dad. I don’t have a dad. Not anymore. He left me.” Cas watched Dean sop up the water on his body and he started to tear up, “He would be so disappointed... He’d cast me out for what I’ve done...  _whore_... I’m a  _whore_...”

Dean has never wanted to take anything back harder before in his life. He caused this whole downward spiral. All of this is his fault. He took Cas by the chin and looked him in his eyes, “No, Cas. Stop talking like that.  _You’re_  not a whore.  _I’m_  a jerk. I got close to you and I got scared and I told you the dumbest things and you need to forget them all. Now. Because you’re not a dissapointment, okay? Of all the people in the world, especially not you. You’re the purest thing I’ve ever seen, Cas. You’re so good. Please... please stop crying... man, please... it kills me...”

Castiel grabbed Dean by the arm and pushed him hard into the wall and Dean heard more than felt the crack inside his shoulder, ignoring the pain as he tried to calm Cas. The fallen angel shouted, “You’re never going to love me! Stop acting like you do! You  _hurt_! You hurt  _me_!” Dean tried to grab Cas’s arm still and Cas shoved him back again, “Stop! Stop it! You hurt me, Dean! You  _hurt me_!” Dean’s eyes watered as he begged Cas to hold still, “I used to feel things... in my chest... when I looked at you... and now my chest hurts... and there is nothing to fix it... there is no bandage for that... there’s no healing that... and now I’m high and I don’t...” Castiel started to sob against Dean’s bare chest as his hands stopped pushing feebily, “I don’t want to be high anymore... Dean... I don’t want to be a mess... but I’m disgusting, you said I was disgusting... I hate you and I  _love_ you and I  _hate_  you...”

“Oh, God, please stop crying...” Dean grabbed him closer into the hug as angry, frustrated tears made their way down his freckled face, “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Cas pushed Dean off of him, face wet and red as he spat out, “No, you’re not! You’re not who you were when I met you! You used to be kind and now you’re... a monster! You don’t care who you stab in the back, you don’t care who you kill. As long as you get that fucking gun, right, Dean?! There’s going to be a trail of dead bodies behind you after every step you take and you don’t even  _care_  and... and that scares me...”

Dean whispered, “No, please... don’t say that, Cas, please...”

Cas breathed into his sobs as he wrapped his arms around himself, “You scare me, Dean Winchester... and no matter how high I get... no matter how much I  _love_  you, that’s never going away... never ever...”

Dean leaned against the wall, hand clung to his injured shoulder, “Cas--“

“If we didn’t have to kill Lucifer...” Castiel stated, hazy eyes locked on Dean’s, “I would have never come back.”

 

July 3rd 2012 

 

The Croatoan virus has reached Kansas, smashing through Lebanon and Lawrence like Godzilla smashed cars. Dean and Castiel made their way to California with haste and guns strapped to their chest and legs as they hightailed it to Montana to go around the hot spots in Colorado and Wyoming. They had driven nonstop for six hours straight of nothing but silence when Cas made Dean pull over the car with a simple gesture, wrenched open the door, and sprinted to the side of the road to throw up violently into the tall, unkempt grass.

For the past few weeks after Cas's little three-day departure, silence had been their game. Castiel woke up every morning vomiting in cold sweats for days as his body tried to flush itself of the drug, but eventually, Cas reached his boiling point. Withdrawl was a bitch and he wasn’t very chill with it at all. Instead of waiting it out a few more days, he grabbed Dean’s keys and said he’d be back in an hour. He was.

The former angel waltzed into the door with some bottle blond named Jessica and they were both high as a kite. She had an open thing of whiskey in her hand and a denim skirt as high up her thigh as possible without her ass cheeks spilling out.

Dean shook his head and grabbed the room keys to catch some fresh air and by the time he came back, “Jessica” was screwing Cas on Dean’s bed in nothing but that denim skirt. Cas was enjoying it too, like any red blooded heterosexual American male would. Dean stood for a minute, watching and taking it all in. They didn’t notice he was in the room yet, so it’s not like he didn’t have time. Castiel was soft voiced and breathy in a way that combated Dean’s many, many dreams, twisting them into something more hard-hitting and real. As she rode him, Cas palmed his way up her body, hands settling low on the swell of her bare tits and Dean had the sudden recollection of the time Cas gave a stripper a breast exam in a club while drunk off of Bacardi. This time, he was high  _and_  drunk. And apparently, that was totally awesome.

It only took a moment for Cas’s eyes to flick to where Dean was standing at the door. Instead of stopping like any other person would, Cas held Dean’s eye as the stranger fucked him into the mattress. Those drugged out hazy blue eyes and unbelievably sexy inhibition of his was driving Dean up the wall. Castiel knew it too. That’s why he held his gaze--it had to be. The woman writhing on top of him was begging and moaning and having the time of her life, meanwhile, Cas was staring Dean down silently. Hell, to Dean, it looked like a challenge. And Dean Winchester doesn’t back away from those. Ever.

Castiel slowly raised his pointed finger toward the door and quirked his eyebrow at Dean, which was the tipping point for the shell shocked hunter. Dean belted out, “Are you fucking kidding me?! You’re not kicking me out of the room I paid for, while you’re screwing god knows who on  _my_  bed, Cas! You can tell that girl to go fuck yourself!”

“What do you think she’s doing?” Cas answered steely, running a hand through his hair as “Jessica” ignored their little quarrel.

Dean pinched at the bridge of his nose and shook his head, “Not what I meant Cas.”

Castiel shrugged and flipped his gaze back to his current lover, “Yeah, well, either leave or watch. Because I’m not stopping.”

Dean folded his arms moodily, “I am not getting sexiled by an angel, so I guess I’m watching then.”

Cas wrinkled his brow, “Sexiled?”

Dean tossed his hands up into the air as he explained to his fucked out friend, “Getting sexually exiled because your roommate and best friend of five years wants to fuck some chick while he's gone!”

Castiel grunted, “What makes you think we're best friends?”

“I could kill you with my bare hands right now, Cas, I really could.” Dean hissed at his fallen angel.

Cas ran his palms up the woman’s active body and responded to Dean while looking her up and down in appreciation, “Yes, you could. But you won’t.”

Dean folded his arms with a pout and stood there after closing the door moodily behind him. After a minute or so, his knees got tired from locking and he made his way to the mini fridge in the room. Dean grabbed a cold one and flipped the arm chair around, plopping himself down in it and staring Cas down after popping the cap off of the beer bottle with his ring. To him, this was kind of like going to see a play. A really raunchy, sweaty, scriptless play. Featuring the man of his dreams and his mistress of the night. Hmm, That sounded a whole lot funnier in his head.

The woman acknowleged Dean’s presence sooner or later, asking so quietly that Dean almost missed it. She spoke, “Is your friend seriously sitting down, drinking a beer, and staring at us?”

Castiel said plainly, “That’s what he does. He likes to  _watch_. Especially when I’m high.”

“Jessica” asked, “So, are you guys  _together_ , or...”

Cas shook his head, “No.”

“Fucking each other?”

“No.”

“Exes?”

“No.”

“...so, who is he?”

Cas shrugged, “Just some guy I know.”

“Jessica” left him alone after that statement, which was the biggest dagger in Dean’s heart he’d ever felt. That blow made twelve rounds with a rabid vamp seem tame. Dean, his best friend and reason for falling, was reduced to “some guy he knows”. 

Cas flipped her over suddenly and grabbed the sheets as he moved down the bed to get his head right there against her hot center, tossing them over his head as he went to work. Dean couldn’t see a damned thing and he thinks that this is Cas’s attempt at protecting her modesty. He scoffed and took another sip of beer, the bubbles of the cold brew sliding down his throat in a comforting rush. So, Cas knows how to lick vaginas. What does he want, a fucking Heisman? Anybody can do that.

The woman arched off of the bed and begged, grabbing at his hair under the covers and pulling hard. Dean raised his bottle and winked at her, “Yeah, there we go, sweetheart. You really know how to put on a show.”

Cas muttered under the sheet, “It’s not a show, Dean. It’s a differential biological theory based on a series of equations. All I have to do is apply it with a simple adjustment to my current philosophy and...“

Dean’s eyes widened as her back shuddered and she called Cas a litany of names starting with “honey” and ending with “Daddy”. Okay, so Cas  _really_  knows how to lick vaginas. He’s still not getting that Heisman.

By the time Dean finished his beer, she came twice and Cas waved her off to go back to her friends at the party he found her at even though he didn’t reach orgasm at all through the whole ordeal. Dean asked her if she wanted a ride and she winked over at Cas and waved as she left in her tight little skirt, giggling that she already got one from his roommate. As she left, Cas pulled a blunt out of his sweatpants pocket and twirled his finger around it to light it with his barely there angel mojo.

Dean raised an eyebrow, “I didn’t know you could still mojo fire.”

Cas took a deep drag and blew out as he laid lazily against the bed in a pair of Dean’s jeans, “Only enough to light up every now and then. Why?”

Dean replied, taking a sip of his second beer, “Just saying. Could be useful.”

Cas chuckled darkly as he leaned forward with the lit doobie in his hand, “Oh, yeah. Satan’s just shaking in his fucking boots. Get me a cape and tights and he might run for the hills.”

Dean gave Castiel a flat look, “Okay, now. I didn’t ask for commentary, you sarcastic dickbag. I’m just saying. All fires start with a little spark. Maybe we could create some diversions, set some of his plans ablaze, do something  _other_  than hunt for the goddamned gun. Slow the guy up a little.”

Castiel chuckled and took a hit, leaning back into the headboard, “Well, look at you, Kolchak. Making plans with that little twinkle in your eye. What is this, Autumn of ’08?”

Dean rolled his eyes, “No, I was a meatheaded, unfocused yuppie back then --“

Cas hissed harshly, “Hey, now! I left  _Heaven_  for that yuppie; you can badmouth him all you want, but don't you dare do it around me!”

Dean laughed into his next sip of beer, “Dude, blame me all you want for your brothers giving you the middle finger but you didn’t  _leave_  Heaven. Heaven left you.”

Cas shook his head with a glare as he twirled his blunt loosely in his fingers, “I will come over there and smite you if you say one more thing about the trouble you caused like it’s  _my fault_  that you wouldn’t let your brother die, went to Hell, and forced my ass to come down from my home and meet you. And I still couldn’t stop you from breaking the first seal and freeing Lucifer and starting this whole fuck up of a world from going to shit in the first place. I would still have my wings if it weren’t for you misguiding me.”

Dean scoffed, “Oh, yeah, because I  _told_  you to Fall--“

“How could I not?! Look at you! You’re the Righteous Man, Dean! You’ve always been the Righteous Man, and you will always  _be_  the Righteous Man, and I am so sick and tired of waiting for you to act like it.” Castiel growled, pointing his blunt at Dean, “You’re a  _coward_  and a  _disappointment_  and a  _drunk_. But, for some strange reason, I believe in you, and =no matter how fucked in the head you get that’s never going to change. So, if you want to plot, put down the beer and  _plot_.” Cas took a drag of his pot, “I’ll be over here getting as far away from sober as physically possible.”

Dean glanced over Castiel’s face as smoke clouded over his scruffy features and he smiled fondly, “Man, when was the last time you weren’t high?”

Cas shrugged, leaning back against the headboard, “Last month for three whole hours. It was fuckin’ awful.”

Dean spoke, “I kind of like you when you're high. You shroud your words in less bullshit.”

Cas started to chuckle into his cloud of smoke, “Oh, please. You damn near  _adore_  me when I'm high. Every time you see me with a white substance, you start taking my clothes off with your eyes.”

Dean shrugged, taking a non-committal sip from his beer, “It’s not like people haven’t been taking your clothes off for a while now. What’s one more guy?”

“Actually...” Cas gazed at Dean softly, “Jessica was my first.”

Dean nearly dropped his beer, “Wait a fucking second, dude, did I just  _watch_  you lose your virginity?”

Cas said easily as he took a drag from his blunt, “I told you to leave. You didn’t listen.”

 

November 4th 2012

 

They had a camp. Kind of. The beginnings of one anyway. Bobby got a call from a hunter who found an abandoned Mormon summer camp in Utah, and told them that hunters were congregating there to form a militia against the growing demon population and the Croats. Like one big, giant hunter army.

That sounded way too cool to pass up, so Dean and Cas hauled ass from Nebraska to Salt Lake City.

The whole ride in the car, Cas kept his feet up on the dashboard, singing along to CCR with Dean as he filled the car up with weed smoke and the two ended up hotboxing it right into Vegas.  They took a rest stop in a giant casino hall in a lavish hotel with chocolates on the pillows, reinforced mattresses, and stripper poles in every bedroom.

Dean ordered them a giant ass king sized bed for the two of them to share (because of price) and told the guy at the desk that they were celebrating their honeymoon to get a discount. The cost of the room was significantly lowered when Cas grabbed Dean’s ass and started kissing sloppily at his neck, panting softly that he  _needed_  his husband  _now_. The receptionist just wanted them out of his face. Dean and Cas hauled their bags up and headed down the winding stairs to the Devil’s Playground of casino games, bars, and scantily clad people.

They looked out of place as fuck in their worn jeans and dark Henleys, Cas’s red eyes were a dead giveaway to his level of sobriety, and surprisingly it took Dean five minutes to get the phone numbers of two women. Cas hung off of Dean like the weed smoke in their hair as they table hopped and lined their pockets with cash. Liquor was flowing at the craps tables and Cas kissed Dean’s dice with tequila drizzled lips as they won round after round.

Calling it a night around two in the morning, the two buddies made their way to their room. They trudged drunkenly up the hallway, making it half way there before Dean asked if it was cool if he called a couple of hookers up. He knows that his usual rule was “no cash for ass” but, he just made ten thousand dollars off of seventeen different guys and it’s the Apocalypse. Rules can be bent. Castiel gave the “OK”, and they unlocked the door and stumbled into their large, heart shaped bed.

Dean pushed Cas onto it and whispered drunkenly that he was ‘so fucking hot’, kissing down his neck nice and soft. Cas panted into Dean’s hair, arching his neck into it before laughing and pushing Dean back, “I’m not that kind of girl, Winchester...”

“Yeah, you are.” Dean replied, tipping Castiel’s head back and kissing his lips firmly.

Cas grabbed the back of Dean’s head and shoved himself into the embrace, kissing him back with fervor. Their tongues tangled and rubbed. Their lips pressed and pushed. Dean ran his hands all over Cas’s firm, lithe body and Cas rutted against Dean’s hips as he did so, letting his soft begging moans fill Dean’s kisses. Cas nodded as Dean tried to tug on the hem of his shirt and he pushed Dean away one more time, “Dean.  _Dean_. I’m not making that mistake again. Seriously. Hands off.”

Dean pouted and pressed one last kiss to Cas’s mouth. Cas kissed him back twice more and narrowed his eyes in a heatless glare, telling him to call the escorts down. Dean sloppily ordered on the phone as Cas unbuttoned his shirt, opening it loosely. He lost his train of thought on the phone and had to repeat his payment information as Cas stood up and made his way over to the pole.

Cas ran his hand down the shiny silver colored metal before grabbing onto it and sliding down lazily. Dean nodded gently on the phone, “Yeah. Room Fourteen Twenty Six. Yeah. I’ll hold.”

Cas hopped up, wrapping his legs around it before curling up onto the bar, grabbing it with his thighs, and sliding down it in a slow, sensuous turning motion. He leaned his head back and caught Dean’s eye, “It’s all in the core muscles.”

Dean nodded again for another reason as he continued to speak to the hooker agency, “Just send two over. And quick. My husband’s trying to end this party before it can start.... Oh, no. Women are still what I want. He’s all the man I need... why? Oh, you know, because we’re married and as Beyoncé instructed, I liked it so I put a ring on it.... Yes. I know. That’s sweet of me to say given the current zombie apocalypse.... Yes. It’ll be on the hotel room credit.... Yes, I would like the honeymoon special.... Okay, goodbye.”

Cas reached out as he finished twirling slowly, landing on the floor, “This sport is surprisingly athletic.”

Dean let the phone slip from his fingers onto the dial as he asked his friend gapingly, “Dude, do you actually know how to pole dance?”

Cas shook his head, laughing as he caught his breath, “Of course not. I’m just fucking around with it.”

“Wow, that’s you fucking around?” Dean asked and Cas nodded. Dean responded with a slow shake of his head, “Remember last year when you said you’d make a bad stripper? I bet all the money I just scammed that you could go downstairs and win us a solid grand sliding up and down one of those things.”

Cas shrugged, patting the pole, “I probably could. Damn, isn’t that sad?”

Dean asked, “Isn’t what sad? That you kick ass on a pole? Because that would mean that we have two very different definitions of sad.”

Cas spoke softly, red tinged eyes closing as he tapped his forehead against the metal, “Yeah, we do. Wanna make out again?”

Dean chuckled lazily on the bed, “Stop trying to change the subject.”

Cas looked up at Dean with pale blue eyes, swimming pink with weed and liquor, “It’s working though, isn’t it?”

Dean shook his head slowly, “Nah, it’s not. Tell me. What’s so sad about you taking your clothes off for a pretty penny? Sounds like a Christmas Miracle to me.”

“Yeah, that’s because you’re a horn dog.” Castiel dismissed as he leaned his forehead back against the pole, “I just... I saw those men and women down there. Yeah, they were dancing. Yeah, it was hot. But... they were wearing those stupid feathery angel wings on their backs and... for the first time ever, I wasn’t offended by that.”

Dean shrugged, “What’s the big problem, dude, you had wings once. They didn’t look like that or something?”

Cas laughed wistfully, “No. Not at all. My true form is roughly the size of your Chrysler Building.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up, “Fuck, seriously?”

Castiel nodded, “And my wingspan would measure the average the length of Times Square.”

“No offense, but how does something so big fit inside of a small guy like that?”

Cas spoke gently, “Angels can collapse their forms, morph, extend, compact. I could have been the size of a paper clip or the size of Philadelphia. Some angels have specific forms like the one you mentioned before; lion’s heads and monkey tails. But, I--as well as Anael--was among the watchers of Earth. We had to be able to sympathize with humans in the way that the larger-than-life centennials and Heaven based warriors could not. So, our forms were more human-like than theirs so we could see ourselves in them. We had two arms, two legs, one head, a torso, etcetera.”

Dean added, “But, no junk?”

Cas laughed softly, meeting Dean’s eyes with a mirthful smile, “Not in our true forms, no. We had no  _need_  for it. We were programmed to be without lust and passion. The angels we needed were created by God, and so we did not  _need_  to procreate to keep our species alive. But, there were some wayward brothers. Some angels who went down to Earth and possessed the men we were sworn to protect; saw the beauty of humanity and fell in love. When the angels laid with them because they could and created great beasts that threatened to destroy the land with power that far exceeded either race. God had them outlawed, calling them abominations. But, well,” Cas shrugged, “if they were truly abominations, God wouldn’t have allowed fertilization to be possible. I believe he made us capable of procreation with humanity for one reason only... to prove that there is a strong line between angel and man. I am the protector and you are my charge. That is the way it should always have been. But, things are different now. I am Fallen. And weak. And needy. Trapped in a grey area where I’m not really either species. So, the question asked is... when did I stop protecting you and when did you start protecting me? Who’s the real angel here? Me or you?”

Dean let out a smirk, “Well, it sure as hell ain’t me. I tried to get my hand stuck in a woman’s cleavage this afternoon, so I’m pretty short of Heavenly. And it ain’t you either. You’re kinda lame as fuck--in a really cute way, but still. You tripped on your own feet coming up the stairs an hour ago.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not lame. I’m the furthest from it; I’m hella cool.” Cas patted the pole gently with his hand, “I have a real natural gift here. I could be my own one-man act. The trench coat would get in the way, but I can work around that.” Dean started to laugh and the side of Castiel’s mouth quirked up in a smile, “I mean, hey, hitting the pole is an actual source of income. All you do is shoot stuff in the forehead, while impressive and moderately arousing, it doesn’t really help out in day to day life.”

“Wait, did you just say arousing?” Dean asked with a drunken grin, swaying on the bed.

Cas opened his mouth to respond and was cut off by a sudden knock on the door. Their heads both snapped towards the door and Castiel wiggled his eyebrows, “Show time.”

Dean pulled himself off of the bed and failed twice before Cas pushed off of the floor and stood up wobbily. He rushed over to the bed and grabbed Dean’s arms, pulling him up onto his feet. They stumbled toward the door together. Dean reached out and opened it, wiggling his eyebrows at the ladies that stood into the doorway, “Howdy, ladies.”

Cas winked as the sleek women with heavily applied eye shadow, “Good evening, conventionally beautiful cis-gender women who deserve social and economic equality just as much as your male counterparts.”

Dean placed his hands gently over Cas’s mouth, “Ssh. You suck at dirty talk.”

Cas made a noise of complaint behind Dean’s hand as the women rolled their eyes and pushed past them into the room, adjusting their little black dresses. As they passed in a haze of floral scented perfume, Cas stretched his hands out towards them, missing as they made their way to the bed. Dean closed the door behind them and removed his hand from his friend’s mouth, Cas whispering to him, “No, I don’t. I was performing a perfectly adequate act of verbal foreplay, Dean.”

Dean gave Cas a flat look, “I don’t even think verbal foreplay is even a thing. Besides, they’re hookers. They’re paid to like us. You don’t have to warm up this truck before you ride it home.”

“I have on good authority that women like to be ‘warmed up’, okay?” Cas hissed, pushing Dean lightly out of the way before running his hand through his hair before stepping toward the two women, “So, ladies. Tell me. Are you craving the focused attention of a man?”

The women wrinkled their noses and looked at Castiel as if he were an alien.

Dean pushed Cas aside and leaned against the wall in his sexiest leisure pose, “Or we could pretend he’s not talking and I could show you all what a cunning linguist I am instead.”

The two women started to smile, leaning down on the bed with twin giggles as the straps of their loose black dresses slipped down their shoulders. Dean grabbed Cas by the wrist and walked towards them, whispering to Cas, “We’re going to have a foursome, okay? I know you’re a little inexperienced in this field, but it’ll be alright. I’ll help you out a little. Just remember two things: if you feel uncomfortable or ignored be vocal about it, and if you get scared and don’t know what to do just put your mouth on whatever skin is closest to your face.”

Cas scoffed, “I know how to pleasure women, Dean. What makes you think I’m nervous?”

“Because, you’re the blushing virgin of the group,” Dean patted Cas on his firm rear before pulling his shirt over his head and hopping onto the bed with the two hookers, “Hey, ladies. Who wants a back massage?”

The two woman raised their hands and Dean moved toward the brunette, blue eyed Hispanic looking lady, settling behind her and motioning for Cas to go over to the blonde woman beside them. She looked up at Cas with large green eyes and crooked a finger toward him, “Hey, big boy. Wanna rub me down?”

Cas shrugged, “Alright, if you insist.”

Dean rolled his eyes, running his hands softly down the brunette woman’s shoulder blades before digging in gently and whispering into her ear, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

She said with a giggle, “Kitten.”

Dean chuckled under his breath, “Of course, it is.”

Cas walked around the bed and shimmied up the crushed red silk sheets to approach the back of the blonde, asking, “Is it alright if I lay my hands on your back?”

The blonde replied uncomfortably, “Uh... sure. You can do whatever you want.”

Castiel said briefly, “Okay. I just want to make sure you are comfortable with my presence. I’ve been told I’m quite the intense lover.”

Dean coughed out a sharp cackle, leaning onto Kitten’s shoulder, “Dude, who the fuck told you that?”

Castiel rattled off, “Carrie, Shanice, Kimberly, Bri’ona, Henry, Laura--“

Dean raised an eyebrow, “Henry?”

Cas shrugged as he rubbed the blonde woman’s shoulders gently, “Yes. I met him outside of a bar and he performed fellatio on me in the bathroom sink.”

Dean asked, “ _In_  the sink?”

Cas replied, squeezing the woman’s inner neck carefully, “He seemed to enjoy it. His back musn’t be happy with him though.”

Dean looked over at Cas before pausing. He gazed into Cas’s bluer eyes and watched as he rubbed the blonde woman’s shoulders with soft hands and concentration that he hasn’t seen in a while. The ex-angel has precision in his movements and his back was straighter. Everything he did seemed to have purpose and the redness of his eyes was a clearer pink now. Dean spoke, “You’re not high anymore, are you?”

Cas cocked his head to the side the way he used to when he was still powered up and Dean’s heart gave a longing thump against his chest, “What gives you that notion?”

Dean lied, looking back at Kitten and rubbing along her back absently, “You’re talking like you swallowed a dictionary. You only do that when you’re jonesing for a hit.”

“I am. But we’re out of marijuana. I smoked it all in the car.” Castiel said wistfully, “But, I still have alcohol in my system. My blood count is enough to satisfy me without getting testy for the next few hours.”

Dean started to laugh gently, “I bet.”

The woman in front of Castiel wrinkled her nose, “Drugs aren’t good for you.”

Cas replied, “Neither is the Croatoan virus. But, 78 percent of the American population is infected and goal-set on spreading the disease across the globe. Personally, I would rather die by my own hand than have my brain turn to mush while I slaughter the innocent, which do you prefer?”

Dean raised his hand with a sloppy smile, “You’re such a dork. I can't believe I let you suck my dick.”

Cas shook his head with laughter, “That was  _one_  time! You will never let me forget that, will you?”

“Nope,” Dean said simply, leaning forward to kiss the side of Kitten’s neck. “I’m bringing that shit up on my deathbed, I swear to you.”

Cas gave Dean a stern look that reminded him a lot of the way he used to look at him back when he was all big and powerful--back when all Dean was to him was a troubled human with the weight of the world on his shoulders and a major attitude problem. The ex-angel glared and spoke with a huff, “And if there are people around to hear you, I will deny your sentiments until you take your final breath.”

Dean grinned, insulting his friend with a jovial chuckle, “Overdose and die, you stupid fuck.”

Castiel smiled back at him, “Only if you shoot yourself in the neck first, assbutt.”

Kitten spoke from underneath Dean’s hands, “Jeez, why don’t you two just kiss already?”

“We kiss plenty, thank you very much. Isn’t that right, Baby Blue-Eyes?” Dean replied with a laugh, leaning over to press his lips against Cas’s for a moment before continuing to rub her back. Cas pushed her forward away from Dean and grabbed his friend by the collar to kiss him long and hard just how he likes it. Dean could feel heat rising in his gut and tingles from his head to his toes. He started to sweat and flush, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s body. It seemed the moment he let himself get into it was the moment Cas always stopped.

A woman cleared her throat and Dean pulled himself from Castiel’s lips, running a thumb across his lower lip before apologizing smoothly, “Sorry, ladies. He’s so... fucking distracting.”

Cas licked his lips slowly and met Dean’s eyes. Dean stared Cas down with this hungry, feral look in his eyes that hopefully made Cas feel like Thanksgiving dinner. Unable to hold himself back for more than a few moments, Dean found himself with a lap full of Cas. His fingers were tangled up in that thick dark hair and their hips were grinding against each other and their tongues licked into the other’s mouth like they were trying to suck out each other’s gold fillings. He couldn’t help himself. Cas just felt so perfect. He kissed just right, he gripped so rough. And even though he wasn’t coked out, he was everything Dean wanted.

The women watched them together with interest and Dean got a glimpse of them with their hands snaking into the front of their dresses while Cas sucked a mark right under Dean’s jaw. Fuck. Their dresses were lifted up and their fingers slipped into their silk panties, eyes scanning the two men together with interest.

The blonde’s thumb flicked up and she let out a soft moan, “Mmm, you two are so hot together. Usually I have to push men to be affectionate towards each other in my orgies.”

Dean spoke in a hauntingly soft voice as Cas teased out another hickey lower on his neck, “Oh, babydoll, we’re more than affectionate with the right drink in us.” Dean watched as Cas wrapped an arm around Dean’s shoulders and pushed himself closer on the hunter’s lap, “And haven't you heard? He's my husband.”

Cas looked up at Dean with lust filled eyes and said with a teasing smile as he lied, "We've been hedging around each other for years... just lonely old bastards sick of being without love.”

“And one day--out of the blue--when we're in a motel after being on the road, this sorry son of a bitch hops out of his bed and into mine. Dude gave me the best orgasm I've ever had in my life.” Dean leaned forward and kissed him gently. “And I told him that somewhere in between all the blood and guts and running for our lives... I fell for him.”

Cas pressed more kisses to Dean’s lips, wrapping both arms around his neck before panting into his mouth, “And I just laughed. Right in his face.”

Dean palmed his way up Castiel’s back and breathed hotly against his lips, “Baby... you couldn’t bullshit me for too long. You knew you loved me the moment I kissed you.”

Cas tossed his head back and started to laugh, leaning back to run a finger across Dean’s lips, “Nah... I just settled.”

Dean gave a soft smirk, “Settled for the best.”

Cas let out another mirthful laugh and pushed himself off of Dean, crawling over to Babydoll before glancing over at Dean teasingly from over his shoulder, “Wouldn't you like to think so...”

Together, Dean and Castiel peeled Babydoll and Kitten’s dresses off of their soft forms. While kissing up Kitten’s neck, Dean rubbed his fingers against Babydoll’s swollen clit and pulled off Kitten’s panties. Sucking gently on Babydoll’s right nipple, Cas unclasped her bra and rubbed his jean covered hard on against Dean’s thigh.

It didn’t take long for them all to lose their clothing. Within the minute, they were all tangled up in each other in a flurry of skin, sweat, dicks, breasts, and sucking lips. Dean licked his way across Babydoll’s stomach to get to Kitten’s center, pushing his face between her legs and licking to his heart’s content. Meanwhile, Babydoll slipped a condom onto Castiel and eased herself onto his cock, riding him gently against the mattress. Dean watched greedily as Cas leaned back and let himself be fucked with his tanned, smoke stained fingers stroking Kitten’s long dark hair. Kitten begged under Dean and Dean ignored her, watching Cas with abandon as his tongue worked between Kitten’s wet labia harder and harder until she came. Her softly manicured fingers twisted into his hair as she yipped out exhalations, swollen pussy quivering against his mouth as her thighs tightened around his head.

Babydoll picked up the pace, jumping up and down on Cas’s lap like a true professional and giggling like it was the most fun she’d had in her life when Kitten reached over to smack her ass playfully. Dean grunted and pushed Kitten up the mattress until her body was parallel to Castiel’s before grabbing his jeans from beside him and fishing out a condom packet. He ripped it open and pulled it on, Kitten giving him an enticing look and a crooked “come hither” finger. Dean gave her his best charming smirk before taking her hips in his firm hands and sinking into her tight heat.

Damn, it’s been a while since he’s had sex.

Maybe a couple of months.

But that’s all out of the window now, because in this moment, he is having sex. And it’s awesome. Kitten was so soft and wet and responsive below him and right beside her... well, right beside her was Cas. Cas had been fucking up into Babydoll nice and rough, giving back what he was getting, but his big blue eyes were trained on Dean.

He ran his teeth along his pale pink lower lip as he watched Dean and started to lean back, letting Babydoll take the reins as he watched Dean. Cas tossed his head back onto the pillow and let one of his hands trail up his runner’s chest, fingers pinching at his erect, dusky nipple as he made the most deep, needy sounds Dean has ever heard from anybody ever. Turns out, Cas got better at getting fucked than he was when he was with “Jessica”. Way better. Shit, he’s a natural.

Dean started hammering into Kitten, matching the time that Babydoll set fucking herself on Cas’s cock, Kitten’s body moving just like Cas’s did. Cas panted and took it like a bitch in heat, begging and moaning and turning to look Dean right in the eye before saying something soft under his breath that he couldn’t hear. Dean watched him harder, fucking Kitten in time with Cas’s labored breaths now. He fucked her and fucker her and fucked her, but Cas’s eyes were on Dean and Dean’s eyes were on Cas.

He could see it in Cas’s eyes too. Cas was imagining Dean on top of him just as much as Dean was imagining Cas underneath him. In Dean’s mind, Cas was taking his dick like it was a blessing, begging for more just like he did for Babydoll. Yeah, Cas was taking it so good. He was biting and clawing and cussing so pretty. Fuck, it feels so good, Cas. So good! So good!

And then Cas said it.

He looked Dean dead in the eyes and released his lip from his teeth before breathing out, “Yes! Please, Dean!”

Dean’s blood ran cold in his veins and somehow his dick got even harder than it already was. His hips stuttered against Kitten as he fucked her and fucked her and fucked  _him_  in his mind. His head rolled back and he locked eyes with Cas again and his friend spoke up again as the force of his thrusts started to bang the headboard against the wall hard, “Don’t stop! Don’t you dare stop, Dean! Yeah... yeah,  _yeah_! I’m so close, Dean!”

That was it for Dean. He pulled out of Kitten and pushed her gently out of the way, discarding the condom before replacing it with his hand. Dean situated himself right beside Cas’s face, jerking his cock roughly, pleading with Cas, “Can I come on your face again? Please, baby, please?”

Castiel nodded slowly, opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out just like he did the first time and it had the  _same exact_  effect. That pink tongue, those wet lips, those big blue eyes. Cas.  _Cas_.  _Cas!_  Dean’s orgasm was sudden and shook him to the core, harshly as he moaned Cas’s name while shoving his spurting cock onto Cas’s lips and begged, “Suck it! Suck it, baby!”

And being the good boy he was, Cas did it. He closed his mouth around Dean’s pulsing cock and sucked it in as far as it would go, slurping up all of the cum he could get his tongue on. Dean shouted Cas’s name and Cas sucked him dry, his balls tight against his body after the workout they just received.  When Dean slowly pulled his cock out from between Cas’s mouth, he crawled over to the other end of the bed, around Kitten and Babydoll where they were kissing each other’s lips passionately.

He parked himself right between Cas’s legs under where Babydoll was still hopping up and down and pulled Cas’s legs apart further to reveal the spot he was looking for. Cas’s voice trailed up from the other end of the bed, asking what Dean was doing and before he could even finish his statement, Dean laved his tongue against the hole, licking and licking and licking until he heard Cas mumble Dean’s name. Yeah, he knows exactly what he’s doing. Ages ago, it seems, Cas told him what makes him come when he’s spanking it in the shower. But clear as a bell, Dean remembered every single word. Just like he knew he would, Cas begged for it the minute Dean started licking. Loud. It barely even took a few moments before his hips pushed up and he made sharp moaning sounds that were a firm indicator that he had just busted the biggest nut of his life into this woman with Dean’s tongue up his ass.

Dean gave Cas’s rear a nice smack before backing out and kissing his way up Babydoll’s back, staring Cas down predatorily from over her shoulder. Cas stared back, breathing heavily as he panted out, “You cheated. Not. Fair.”

“All’s fair in love and war, baby.” Dean winked. “Especially when you spill your trade secrets to the capital.”

Cas hissed out, “I was. High. When I. Told you. That.”

“You're always high.” Dean replied, reaching down to give his friend’s ass another sharp smack.

 

 

January 29th 2013

 

Camp Chitaqua is what that Mormon Bible Camp was called, and after bouncing off names with the fellow hunter refugees, they couldn’t come up with any better. So, they kept it. Yeah, sue them. Wait. Don’t. You might actually win for copyright infringement. But, who cares about any of that anymore? It’s the end of the fucking world. People are eating each other’s faces off in the streets.  Televisions shut down, the Internet no longer exists, and every single lawyer that Dean knows of is either dead or snacking on brains. So, fuck laws. Fuck copyright infringement. He can show Finding Nemo, or Frozen, or whatever the hell else bullshit movie he does in bulk in the cafeteria every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday night because it raises morale in the group and no one’s around to tell him he can’t.

There were at least six strong hunters leading the group making up the top food chain of the regime before Dean and Cas showed up in November of last year. Kendall, Jung So, Maria, Da’Quan, Risa, and Reggie. Within those two months, only Jung So, Da’Quan, and Risa were still alive. Supply run. Croat attack. Mercy killings--the whole nine. No one seems to have much of a lifespan around here if they don’t watch their asses. One moment of hesitation can be the end of you. And no one knew that as well as Dean did. It only took a few weeks for him to rise in command and by the beginning of the new year, Dean ran that place like a well-oiled fucking machine.

He led Intel, war tactics, battle preparedness classes, and organized the family readiness program. There were only two families there, but they were both intact and Dean intended on keeping it that way. Lucy and Rodger were in their forties with two young daughters and Yekaterina and Dmitri just gave birth to a healthy son. They were the only kids in the camp and Dean would be damned if they so much as touched a gun.

Under Dean’s direction, the camp seemed to flow much smoother. There were fewer squabbles and less deaths. There was higher awareness and lower depression rates. He was a drill sergeant, yeah. But, there was sometime about him that made people trust and feel safe around him; that was key to his successes.

Cas, on the other hand, remained Dean’s right hand in everything they did. He was the swing-vote and the weapons keeper. But, after nearly blowing up their arsenal after smoking a joint in the gun cabins, he was quickly fired.

Somehow along the line, he became the camp therapist. Once word spread that Castiel was a real live angel, people stared going to him for confession. Cas told them over and over again that he couldn’t answer prayers anymore because he was much too weak, but they came to him anyway bearing gifts and words and tears. Maybe it was because he was their light--their proof of God in a dying world. Maybe it was something else. Cas would never know for sure. But, one thing he does know is that he gets drugs literally whenever he asks for them. It doesn’t matter how risky the mission or how few and far between medication is, Cas had his own personal Pharmacy going around and he made it his business to stay stoned as often as possible.

After a while being human, Cas knew his limits with drugs. He knew what he could handle. But, sometimes, he went a little overboard just to remind himself how fragile life was. Dean remembers watching Cas stumble into the mess hall with uncertain feet and the most blissed out smile he could muster. He made his way past the bustle of people who parted like the Red Sea for him, blessings under their breaths, until he made it to Dean’s seat. Cas sat on the seat next to Dean’s and draped himself over Dean’s shoulder, poking at the hunter’s earlobe as he chuckled out sloppily, “Deany, Deany Dean. You’re so why are you the best friend in the whole wide world? You’re my best--wow you’re pretty I like that beard thing you’re got going on--can I run the camp today? I’m an angelphant. It’s like an elephant, but with angel wings and you--you’re a rhinoceros! You’re so big! Wow...”

Dean felt a shudder of fear go through his bloodstream. Cas hasn’t been high like this in  _months_. And Dean wasn’t counting that one time he came back strung out on coke, because his high was almost gone then. Cas was a new kind of high. He was tripping. Tripping  _balls_. Yeah, Dean needed to get Cas away from the cafeteria. Now. Before the trip turns bad--and it  _will_  turn bad. It has to. Cas’s current state of mental health and environment in the people-filled camp wasn’t stable enough to warrant him taking hallucinogens.

As of now, Cas was laughing and tugging at Dean’s shirt, trying to blow on it because he said that it was a balloon. Dean tugged his shirt back and excused himself from Jung So, Risa, and the major Colt retrieval planning they were doing. He grabbed Cas by the wrist and started tugging him through the thick crowds of people who were too preoccupied with praising Cas’s appearance than they were with making sure he wasn’t going to try to eat his own hands. Dean excused them as they walked on by and Cas took a pair of glasses off of a guy’s face as they passed him, placing the spectacles on his face and giggling at the blurry world.

Dean stumbled with Cas all the way back to his hippie-ass cabin and shut the hard wooden door before turning and grabbing Cas by the arms, shaking him, “Cas! What are you? Mental?! Why the fuck would you take a brand new drug in the middle of the day and just strut through camp?! What if you let Croats in?! What if someone killed you?! You could be dead right now! Then what would I do?! I’d be fucking lost without you, Cas?! What the fuck were you thinking?!”

Cas chuckled, dazed eyes opening and closing slowly, “You’re angry.”

“No shit, Sherlock!” Dean hissed, pushing Castiel towards the bed through an obstacle course of discarded shirts, blunt ashes, and throw pillows. When they finally got there, Dean sat Cas down and sucked his teeth moodily. He got down to his knees in front of his best friend, unzipping Cas’s jeans and pulling them off over Cas’s dirty bare feet. Dean scoffed, “Look at this. You’re not even wearing shoes. What if you stepped on a nail and got Tetanus?”

Castiel started to sing deeply, “ _Black and orange stray cat sitting on the fence... ain’t got enough dough to pay the rent...”_

Dean shook his head and leaned forward, tugging Cas’s saggy grey Henley over his head, “Fucking Christ, man...”

Cas continued from under the shirt, “ _I’m flat broke but I don’t care... I walk right by with my tail in the air..._ ”

When he wrestled the shirt off of Castiel, Dean stared into Cas’s tired eyes for a moment just to look and all of his anger melted away. He raised his hands to cup Cas’s stubbly face and let out a wistful smile and said gently, “Baby, what am I gonna do with you?”

Cas shrugged in his tank top under shirt, “I don’t know, Mr. Rhino.”

Dean pressed his forehead to Cas’s and kissed the tip of his nose, “You’re so pretty when you’re like this, you know that?”

Castiel started laughing, “ _I don’t bother chasing mice around..._ ”

Dean licked his lips and gazed at Cas wantonly, “So fucking pretty.”

Cas continued goofily, “ _I slink down the alley looking for a fight... howling to the moonlight on a hot summer night..._ ”

Dean leaned forward to nip at Cas’s neck with gentle kisses and small suction, “Fuck, baby, you’re so high...”

“ _Singin' the blues while the lady cats cry_...” Cas sang lazily, breath hitching as Dean bit his collarbone, “Ah!  _Wild stray cat, you're a real gone guy...”_

Dean kissed his skin harder, grabbing Cas by the waist and pushed him onto the bed to litter lust-filles smooches down the top of his chest. He tugged the under shirt off of Castiel’s body and worshipped him with kiss after kiss onto his tight chest. This was so stupid. They were in the heart of a war. People were dying every minute. Lucifer was still in the wind. And Dean and Cas didn't even lock the door. 

The soft Utah breeze rolled in through the makeshift window, which was merely a square hole cut out of the wall with a long dirty cloth over it, and peppered it's way down Dean's threadbare tee shirt. Cas shuddered and begged underneath him with slurred speech. He gripped his hands into Dean's hair and tugged him up into a hard kiss. Their tongues collided messily. Their hands laid paths of claim across skin, breathing want and desire into each other's faces.

Cas decided that he didn't like Dean's shirt and tugged it over his broad back and shoulders and carefully gelled head of filthy blonde hair, breaking the kiss to toss it over the bed into a small pile of soot covered used blunts. Dean hissed as his shirt fell into the dirty pile, turning to Castiel to fuss him out about getting old pot ashes all over his clothes, but failing to say so. He caught one look at Cas's distant blue eyes, the rims of the brilliant electric cerulean puffy with pinks and reds. Cas blinked lazily right back at him and started to chuckle softly under his breath, "There's like five o'you right now... and I... I'm either living the dream, or I'm  _really_  fuckin' high..." The angel laughed again, running his hands down Dean's face before flopping back on the bed. He stretched out and looked up at Dean with a wink. Before Dean could even stop it, his half hard cock twitched in his old, worn jeans as he took in the sight. Castiel's hair was messy and his body was loose and pliant. His arms were bare and pockmarked with the occasional track mark caused by jabbing needles through the soft skin. His lips were wet and glistening. His chin was rough with stubble. He smelled of freshly rolled marijuana and the watermelon scented body wash he stole from a convenience store last week. But, he also smelled of clean sweat and musk. He smelled like need and passion. He smelled like sex. And Dean wanted him. Dean wanted him  _bad._  Cas smirked up at Dean knowingly as he sighed, chest rising and falling with each tantalizingly slow breath, "Now, where were we? You were about to sully me, if I'm correct?"

Dean felt a heat unfurl from the base of his belly, sinking into the edge of his vision as he stared wantonly at his blissed out best friend. But, he felt something else as well. Guilt. Deep set, vein pulsing  _guilt_  melting all the way down to the fiber of his being. He wanted Cas more than he wanted revenge, more than the Colt, more than Lucifer's head on a stick, more than he wanted to make it out of this Hell on Earth alive. He wanted Cas more than anything--more than life itself. He would throw himself headfirst into the firey pits of Satan's cage just to feel Castiel's body underneath him, smiling, laughing, happy, safe. And that thought scares him.

But, not for the reasons you would think.

His fear was not ripping through him so fiercely because he's putting billions of lives behind one, not because he would throw this whole camp and more into Lucifer's lap to keep Cas protected, not because of any of that.

He feels guilty because he  _knew_  that it would always end this way. 

He  _knew_  that he would choose Cas. How? Because Cas always chose him. 

Dean doesn't give a rats ass about fate--not usually--but him and Cas... what they are to each other... its nothing short of legendary. The man in this bed with him isn't just a creature. Castiel is an ageless angel of the Lord who has moved mountains, made hurricanes with his wings, served in eon-long battles with beings larger than life itself. He's lived in Heaven for millions of years with his brothers, maintaining structure and order on Earth. But, he took one look at Dean's soul and Fell immediately. Sure, losing his powers was slow and painful, but he stayed tethered to Dean side through it all because what he saw in Dean meant more to him than his entire life did. And it took five years and a handful of pills for Dean to feel the same way for him. Yet, if it took longer--a lifetime, even--Dean is certain that he would breathe his last breath with love for Castiel among all others. Why? Because they're fated to. And no matter how hard he fights it, their love is buried deep in his fragile human bones and he couldn't keep up that Devil May Care facade forever. He loved Castiel to death. Literally. 

One day, he will lose everything on purpose. His honor, his camp, his fight, his need for justice; he'll throw it all away. And Cas will be right there beside him to watch him fail; the body that warms him when the whole globe freezes over because he couldn't let his brother die.

Dean pushed himself out of bed, grabbing his tee shirt from off of the ground. He dusted it off and gave Castiel a nice long look before leaning in and kissing him on the forehead before whispering so quietly that Cas almost missed it, "I can't have you now, because I'll never let you go when I need to."

He watched as Cas's heart broke right in front of him. His blue eyes fell and he straightened up, jaw setting firm as he stated lowly, "Right. Because the mission comes first. Before everything. Even me."

Dean placed his hand on the side of Cas's scratchy face with more gentleness than he's shown anyone before, "Bae, don't say it like that--"

"I'm not your  _bae_." Cas slapped Dean's hand off of his face, "Killing Lucifer is your bae, shooting Croats in their fucking faces is your bae! And as long as you have that, what do you need me for, huh? I can hunt. I can fight. But, what about after, Dean?"

Dean spoke softly, "After I kill Lucifer--"

Cas shook his head, "Not after you kill Lucifer, Dean.  _After_  you wear me down to the bone waiting for you.  _After_  my heart gives out.  _After_  I'm dead. What's killing the devil going to feel like when you have no one to share it with? Because, Dean... I'm the only person who would stand beside you with love in my heart after all of the evil you will have done to get you there."

Dean felt his chest tighten as the words cut him like a knife. He whimpered, "Castiel, just--"

"Don't. You. Dare. ' _Castiel_ ' me." Cas hissed harshly, breath stinking of smoke and whiskey. "My trip's almost over anyway. Could you be a doll and bring me that bottle by the bonsai table?"

Dean closed his eyes, "But, I--"

"I said, 'bring me the bottle', Dean." Cas commanded, voice still just as strong and terrifying as it was when they first met, "Then get out, because I'm teetering on the edge of sober and you do not want to be around when I am."

Dean obliged.

 

 

 

August 28th 2013

 

They got the Colt. 

They fucking got it.

Dean, Cas, Jung So, and Risa went through a small army of demons and Croats with nothing but two double barrel shotguns each and five machetes. They spilled gallons of blood, Risa bruised her ribs, Jung So lost a finger, and Cas broke his foot but they got it. Turns out, Lucifer had demon generals set up two per state, keeping the Croats in line and spreading well-executed mayhem. They were working on possessing the President of the United States, but Sarah Palin didn't seem to need a demon in her to keep America royally fucked. The generals were passing the Colt around state to state so that it never lived in the same place for too long and after capturing and torturing four demons, Dean and Camp Chitaqua learned that the Colt was on its way to New Mexico.

The next holding cell was a mere half day away, so Dean picked his team of strong fighters and headed out the next morning after a long rest and a hearty breakfast. The car ride was smooth and delightful. Jung So and Risa followed Dean and Cas in their government issued truck as Dean and Cas blasted Metallica and hotboxed the whole way, laughing and singing along. They were on their way to killing the devil. So close that they could almost taste it. Hell, if they tracked down Lucifer quick enough with the best people behind him, the devil could be dead by Thanksgiving Day. Then, Dean would find Sam, who is no doubt kicking ass on the other side of the country just like they promised. After that, the three would strap up their guns and take a two week long vacation in Hawaii with nothing but a room for Sam to chill in and a room for Dean and Cas to... well, consummate their love for each other over and over again until they pass out.

It was on and rolling when they reached it: the ordinary-looking two story house, third to the end of Main Street. But, Dean knew. He stopped the troops down the block and they came in guns blazing. The demons had no idea that they were coming. The hell spawns were sloppy and caught off guard, and after a decent amount of ass kicking on both sides, Dean's crew hobbled out of the house beaten, bloody, and carrying the Colt over their heads like little kids in a game of capture the flag. Well... Jung So carried it, Dean carried Cas because the poor dude could barely walk. 

Dean took him to the backseat of the car to patch up his foot and waved Risa and Jung Ho off back to the camp after they handed him the gun. He held the cold metal in his hands for a moment, appreciating the smooth feel against the rough grooves of the carvings scrawled in by Samuel Colt's own hands. The gun came with a full sleeve of bullets too.

Shit. It was Christmas. 

Dean tucked the gun into the holster at his thigh with a huge grin and patted his friend on the thigh with glee before grabbing the first aid kit on the floor. He pulled a clean cloth out of the kit and wadded it up before handing it to his friend, "Bite on this, will ya?"

Cas rolled his eyes from where he was stretched out in the backseat of the Impala, "What for?"

"I'm going to reset the bones in your foot. It'll hurt like a mother and I don't need you making noise and telling all the stray Croats where we are."  Dean stated simply, looking past Castiel's head out of the window and seeing that the sun was setting in the background, "Besides, we're losing daylight here."

Castiel pushes the cloth away from his face moodily, "Dean, I've been impaled with the blazing swords of holy fire, slammed into the Earth's core, burned by Hell fire, and tortured by demons. I think I can handle you setting a bon-- sON OF A  _BITCH ON A SKATEBOARD!!_  "

Dean patted Castiel's heel gently, "See, there we go, soldier. The worst bit is over."

Cas gave out a soft whimper before leaning his head back until it rested against the window, "Sweet fuck that hurt so fucking bad I fucking hate you."

Dean started to laugh as he curled Cas's newly set foot in his hands to keep it still as he pulled the ace bandage out of it's tape with his teeth, "I told you! You just didn't listen, you stubborn fuck. Sometimes I'm not sure you know that you're human."

Cas hissed with a sharp glare, "I'm not human. I'm a  _Fallen,_ which means I'm better than you because I don't have a soul tying me down and making me all bitchy and emotional."

Dean cackled as he wrapped the bandage around Cas's foot, "Oh, please. You are easily the bitchiest and most emotional person I've ever met in my entire life, and I used to save teenage girls on the regular."

"You know what? Fuck you." Cas leaned forward and swiped at Dean, missing his mark, "I'll show you bitchy! I'll be the bitchiest bitch you've ever seen."

Dean ducked out of the way and smirked knowingly, "Not with that attitude. You're going to have to work on that sass if you want to be  _my_  sub."

"I didn't mean it like--" Cas hissed, "I'm going to smack you so hard. Get over here so I can reach you!"

Dean winked, "Dude, please. You don't hit anywhere near hard enough. I'm not even remotely afraid of you."

The Fallen angel winced at the tightened ace bandage wrapping around his broken foot and replied with a wistful pause, "Remember when you were? Remember when... I was this huge, terrible beast who could lay an entire city to waste with a mere glance? Now, I'm... I don't even know what I am anymore."

"Well, that's the thing, Cas. You're still a huge, terrible beast. Just a little weaker and a little sadder and stoned most of the time. But you still mean something and your life deserves saving. Just as much as mine does--if not more." Dean said simply, "But you did break your foot trying to Arnold Schwarzenegger your way through a wall. You've gotta admit that it was kinda dumb. Even for you."

Cas reached forward and swiped at Dean again, missing with a laugh, "But, did it look cool like in the movies?"

Dean gripped his hand as it jetted out to smack him again, "No. It looked awful. I saw that foot of yours snapping like ten feet away."

"You're right. I was being a little unrealistic in the heat of the moment. But, bone break or no bone break, you've got to admit, the wall came down pretty good." Cas's hand wrapped around Dean's and he watched as Dean tightened his grip on their fingers, sliding them together before kissing the back of his friend's hand. Letting out a soft smile at the feel of Dean's lips against his hand, Cas spoke gently, "Going back in time, I wouldn't change what I did. I got everybody in there quick enough to give us a major advantage on the demons. Hell, fuck everybody. I got  _you_  in there quick enough. And  _you_  got the Colt.  _You_  did it... I'm real proud of you, you know that?"

Dean nodded, "Yeah. To quote Rodger's daughter, 'it's  _toates obvi_ '."

Cas gave Dean a stony expression, "I'm serious. You did a good thing, Dean. All the planning and strategy. We made it in and out with no casualties and got one step closer to killing the Devil. That was all you. You're fucking amazing and I don't think you can even understand how much I love y--" Cas's eyes widened, catching himself before continuing blandly, "I love that you did that. For, you know, the world and all the people. You um... really took one for the team there, fearless leader."

Dean flashed a knowing smile at Cas before sealing the wrapped ace bandage around his foot with a paperclip, "Yeah, I know what you mean. You love me."

Cas glared at him, "I love humanity."

Dean winked, "Hi, my name is Humanity. Nice to meet you."

Cas actually succeeded in hitting him this time. Dean started to laugh as Cas smacked him upside the head before Cas gripped him tight by the collar of his shirt and tugged him up into the car on top of him. He had to grab at Dean's arms sloppily to tug him up to face level and Dean's pretty sure he was crushing Cas with his weight, but once he was eye level with him, it didn't even seem to matter. They locked eyes and smiled softly at each other, hands slipping together at their sides as they stared into each other's eyes blissfully. The two didn't speak for a long while. They just stared and smiled and tightened their grip on each other. Dean rested his head on Cas's chest and Cas kissed his tousled dirty blonde hair as they lay together in the backseat of Dean's car in the middle of a Croat hot zone, covered in blood and bruises. 

The angel's heartbeat was steady and strong under Dean's cheek and his skin was warm through the old navy Henley tee shirt. He smelled like fresh kush and that dumb fruity body wash he keeps lifting from the abandoned CVS three blocks away from the camp. When he smiled, he smelled more like spit and mints, which isn't particularly good but isn't bad either.

It's what he felt like that was good. His strong tanned skin felt like home. Even patting Cas's shoulder can be enough for Dean sometimes. But there are rare moments when Dean sneaks into his cabin at night and lays his head on the angel's chest. In those moments, he feels lost and scared and monstrous until his feet lift him out of bed and send him across the camp, picking the lock of Cas's cabin door. Sometimes Cas is asleep. Sometimes he's not. When he is, Dean lays beside him and wakes up wrapped in a warm embrace. When he isn't sleeping, however, they say just as much nothing as they would have if Cas hadn't been conscious. The difference is that Cas shifts over wordlessly, opens an arm, and lifts the quilts. Dean curls into Cas's body and Cas presses kisses all over his face and hair until sleep takes them. 

They don't do this during the day--this whole cuddling thing. But, they were doing it now. Besides the sun is setting, so it doesn't even count. Cas stroked his hair and kissed Dean's forehead once more, "Okay, fine. I love you a little."

Dean grinned against Castiel's warm shirt and breathed in his scent before speaking softly, "I love you a little too. I mean, like... you know. Like that. It's no big deal. Just saying. I don't do the whole love and... love, but with you... you're an exception to that, I guess."

Cas shifted under Dean and remained quiet for another long moment and he added after a pause, "That's cool."

"Yeah." Dean said with a laugh, rubbing his stubbly cheek against Cas's neck "It is."

**Author's Note:**

> I know this story is laced with intense issues, some of which are hard to deal with. If you have serious problems with this or this triggered you in any way, please PM me so that I can update my tags. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.  
> \- Blue


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